Head Games
by Creedo
Summary: Starsky and Hutch's new foe, loves to play Head Games. This one is is a collaboration amonst friends.
1. Chapter 1

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

**Chapter One**

Starsky and Hutch sat in Dobey's office joined by a pair of detectives, Lyons, a Detective Sergeant 3rd class who had been on the force for 4 years, a good enough officer to warrant a certain amount of respect from both Starsky and Hutch, and Novak, a Sergeant 2nd class, and the proverbial thorn in Starsky's side. Those two never did see eye to eye, if Starsky saw something as being white, Novak would call it black and then spend the next 30 minutes trying to prove him wrong. Hutch always sided with his partner, but still enjoyed the irritation the other detective always brought to his friend.

They were discussing their current case, one of arms shipments. It had been transferred to homicide after the last investigating detective wound up a paraplegic after a suspicious accident. There were many suspicions, but nothing substantial. Dobey agreed to put his finest officers on the case, and that was Starsky and Hutch, followed closely by Novak and Lyons, much to Starsky's chagrin. Novak was right on their heels, he couldn't wait to pass them and beat them at absolutely everything, to tell you the truth, Starsky welcomed the challenge with open arms. Lyons and Hutch were more alike, laid back and easy going, they never did care who was in first, as long as they got the job done.

This group of dealers they were up against were a bad bunch of men, they had feelers out on the streets, and word was that anyone that came between them and their business would end up with the same fate as the disabled officer, making it even more important to both Starsky and Hutch that they find these guys and take them down. No one messes with a fellow officer and gets away with it.

Dobey eyed his men, listening patiently as tempers flared between Starsky and Novak, noticing how Hutch sat on the arm of his partner's chair. Though the blond remained quiet, his body language indicated that he totally supported the hot-headed brunet, who was obviously upset, gesturing wildly with his hands to get his point across.

"Look Cap, Hutch and me don't need Novak tailin' us around. He's more liable to blow everything we set up. All these months of surveillance will have been for nothin'!" Starsky snapped, his dark blue eyes, stormy and flashing with this ire. "We almost had one of Sander's men yesterday . . ."

"Yeah, until Starsky blew the deal and let him get away . . ." Novak replied snidely. Although his voice remained calm, there was no denying the taunting tone that he used and the challenge in his eyes, as he addressed the curly haired detective.

"What?" Starsky snapped, turning to look Novak in the eye, "If you had used your walkie the way you were supposed to and relayed the information that he was comin' we would have been ready for him. The trouble with you Novak, is that you want to be "The Man". You have no idea what it means to work as a team." Starsky turned to look at his captain, "Cap, Hutch and me can handle this. We're up against bad guys who ain't afraid of blowing cops away. Look what he did to Cano . . . he's paralyzed from the waist down for life. I trust Hutch with my life, you know that, but I ain't workin' with no hot-headed, credit lovin', sorry excuse for a detective . . . and that's him!" Starsky hiked his thumb over his shoulder, refusing to even look at his nemesis.

"Settle down Starsky," Dobey growled, "I don't need you to come in here telling me what I can or can't do. As far as I remember, I'm still the captain around here."

"But Cap'n . . ."

"No buts, you listen here Starsky," Dobey snapped, "There is no room in this police force for hot dogging or private parties . . . especially on a case as volatile and as dangerous as this. You four are my best men and we need every one of you to crack Sanders and his organization. Whatever personality conflict is going on between you and Novak ends here. You are first, and above all, officers of the law and you will stay partnered together as a team and that's an order! Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal!" Starsky snarled, eyes flashing angrily, as he stood abruptly and made his way to the door followed by Hutch. He was stopped by Novak who cordially opened the door for him, a sneer barely concealed on his face, as his arm barred the doorway.

"Don't go away mad Starsky . . . just go away!" the older detective snickered.

"Yeah? Well you better just stay the hell outta my way!" Starsky growled, slapping Novak's arm out of his path, throwing him off balance, as the brunet stormed angrily down the hallway.

"I would take those words of advice," Hutch said softly, as Novak straightened and leaned his body against the file cabinet.

"Don't know how you can stand to be partnered with that hot-head, his temper might get you blown away one day Hutchinson." Novak smiled, as the tall blond gave him the once over.

"I'll take my chances with him any day," Hutch said calmly, as he walked to the door.

"And you need to wake up boy and see that stinkin' Jew for what he is . . ." Novak mumbled under his breath, just as Hutch passed him by.

The tall blond turned to look at Novak, who leaned nonchalantly against the file cabinet, one arm draped casually across the top, "What did you say Novak?" Hutch demanded, his icy, blue gaze flashed angrily and froze the older detective in his spot. Although he was sure he heard the racist remark from the older detective, Hutch couldn't swear to it and it instantly filled the blonde's heart with frustration and dislike for the cocky cop. For a minute the two men glared at one another before Novak turned his gaze away.

"Nuthin'" Novak said, "You better hurry and catch up with your pig-headed friend before he hits someone and they press charges." Novak chuckled.

"Yeah? And you better think twice before opening your filthy mouth again with comments about my partner, or you're gonna be pressing charges against me. You got that?" Hutch snapped. At the older man's continued silence, the blond walked calmly from the room in search of his partner who he later found by candy machine.

"You okay buddy?" Hutch said gently, laying his large, warm hand on his partner's shoulder.

"Yeah, sorry about the shit back there. Don' know why I let him get to me like that." Starsky said sheepishly, a grin breaking out on his face.

Hutch smiled, restraining himself from tousling his partner's dark, unruly curls. "Novak's a jerk. Ignore him . . . whether we want him here or not, he's along for the ride." Hutch said sagely.

"Yeah," Starsky said, his face falling slightly only to lift his eyes again with uncontained excitement, "Hey . . . you gotta quarter on ya Hutch . . . huh . . . I'm kinda hungry."

Hutch snorted softly, "Tell you what pal, let's call it a day and go to Huggy's for some beer and burgers . . . it'll be your treat!" The tall blond chuckled and he slapped his partner lightly on the back as he walked by, making his way to the parking garage.

For a moment, the brunet stood rooted where he was, and incredulous look on his face as he watched his partner saunter away. "Hey . . . hey Hutch . . . wait up . . . " the brunet ran calling after his friend, "Did anyone ever tell ya that you really suck at cheering a guy up . . . huh?"

oooOOOooo

Mr. Gary Sanders was a very wealthy, very powerful man. He knew what he wanted and he knew just how to get it. He sat in the high back leather chair at the head of the long mahogany table in his darkly wood paneled conference room. There were three other men in the room, Jenkins, his right hand man. Slingsby, another highly respected and highly trusted member of the organization, and Jericho, the man that a few hours earlier was being chased by Starsky, able to give him the slip, a lucky escape to say the least.

"These two are good, they're said to be Bay City's finest." Jenkins described the duo as he slid an 8 x 10 black and white photo across the table to his boss, "Their names, Dave Starsky and Ken Hutchinson. Word has it Jericho was very lucky indeed to have gotten away, that doesn't happen often where these two are concerned." He informed the group.

"If they're the best, then that makes them important to me, why'd it take you so long to tell me about them? I want them and I want them now…" Sanders growled his orders, obviously frustrated with his employee's accomplishments. "See that's the difference between you and me, I shouldn't have to explain their importance to the organization, but here we are, having this discussion…and as for you Jericho," he looked at the small but effective man, "I wouldn't call it luck that you got away from them, don't go being too proud of yourself, because in order to remain in good standings with me, you should have never had been chased. That was careless and inexcusable as far as I am concerned." He finished as he picked up the picture of the table in front of him, staring at the picture of Starsky and Hutch, studying their features, imagining what fun it was going to be to use them and make them pay for causing him the inconvenience that they had already managed to inflict on him.

"Mr. Sanders, forgive me sir, but are you sure you want us to bring them in? I don't know if that is such a good idea." Slingsby interjected as he earned himself an irritated scowl from his boss.

"Are you questioning me Slingsby?" His brow furrowed, "Last time I checked, I ran this operation, and I did it just fine without any of your help!" He looked back at Jenkins, "We need them in before the next shipment, and I expect you to take care of it post haste! We don't have a lot of time to work with and I need to make sure all my men are in place before it arrives." He looked around the room at the three men that sat there silent, "Now move!" He ordered as the trio hopped to and scurried out of the room bringing a smile to Sanders face.

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

**CHAPTER 2**

It was pretty busy for a Thursday night at Huggy's, and Hutch felt fortunate to find the back booth that they usually sat at, unoccupied. Starsky slid wearily into the booth, looking around the place once he got settled. Hutch took the opposite side and eyed his partner.

"Tired?" Hutch asked, his soft voice never failed to soothe the brunet and lift his spirits, and Starsky gave his partner one of his patented grins.

"A bit," the dark haired detective said, "You know how it is . . . surveillance can be a bitch sometimes, especially when it revolves around this case. Man Hutch, I feel like I haven't been here for a while now."

"Well we haven't . . . been too busy with this arms shipment case . . . Sander's organization is pretty tight and has never been cracked before." Hutch said.

"Yeah, and it doesn't help having that arrogant bastard, Novak, breathin' down our necks all the time. Did'ja get how he tried to blame me for losin' that guy?"

"After what you said today, Dobey knows that Novak's not a team player, but he's right Starsk, we're gonna need help with this one . . . this case might be bigger than either of us can handle alone and after what happened to Cano, we need to move with caution."

"Yeah . . . well I'd work with anyone else except Novak. I just don't trust him Hutch." Starsky said, as his eyes shifted to the tall black proprietor who sauntered over to their booth, a dishrag thrown carelessly over his shoulder.

"Well looky hea . . . if it ain't the dynamic duo come waltzin' into my humble abode after doin' a disappearin' act for weeks on end." the skinny black man said loudly, a huge smile plastered on his dark face, "What brings Batman and Robin out on a Thursday night at that?"

"Beer," Starsky said smiling, his dark blue eyes twinkling with fondness for his long-time friend, "And just so we're clear on this . . . I'm Batman."

"And burgers," Hutch added, "His treat." The tall blond chuckled as he pointed his finger across the way to his sputtering partner, "Batman always treats Robin."

Huggy smiled widely, "No need to get your super undies all tangled up Starsky, it's on the house. I'll be right back with your beer and then maybe we can "catch up" if you know what I mean . . ."

The Bear turned back to the bar, leaving Starsky staring at Hutch, as they silently tried to decipher Huggy's cryptic message.

"What do you make of that?" Hutch asked his curly haired friend, who shrugged in return.

"Dunno . . . guess he'll tell us when he returns." Starsky said, his cobalt eyes sweeping the room again, widening suddenly, then scrunching in exasperation, "Shit! Of all the gall, that jackass followed us in here!"

Hutch turned to look at the door and saw Novak making his way over to their table. The tall blond looked back at his disgruntled partner and rolled his eyes. Hutch could feel the irritation for the older cop come creeping back as he remembered the racist jib he thought he heard Novak murmur in Dobey's office. Racial slurs were one thing that both he, and Starsky, would never put up with.

His mind raced back to the day Jackson was shot in the alley, and he had to hold Starsky back from hitting that punk rookie again after he made a racist remark against an eye witness for being black. Novak had better be careful about making those kinds of slurs around the dark haired detective.

"Enjoying the evening boys?" Novak sneered, "I would think that since we're partners now, you would have had the decency to invite me along."

"Yeah? Well I don't see Lyons taggin' along," Starsky said sarcastically, "Don't tell me that he's finally wised up and requested a transfer to get away from you."

The tall blond snorted softly, earning a huge grin from the brunet. Hutch looked up at Novak who stood with his fists clenched as he glared down at Starsky malevolently.

"Look Novak," Hutch said, "It's late, we've all had a long day, and we're tired. You and Starsky here need some time away from each other . . . tomorrow will come soon enough. So if I were you, I'd either find another table . . ."

"Or go find another bar . . ." Starsky threw in, "There's a lot across town I hear . . .you can make new friends over there, although it might be pretty hard with your poor social skills . . ." the brunet snickered at his own joke, watching as Novak's face turned a bright red.

"Yeah? Well had I known you would choose this slummy joint to hang out at, I might have thought twice about coming here . . ."

"Now what did I hea? You callin' my place slummy?" Huggy said indignantly, placing the foamy mugs of beer on the old varnished table. The tall black man turned to Hutch, "Either your taste in friends has changed over these few weeks, or . . ."

"Should've known a nigger was running this joint . . . the place reeks of black eyed peas and grits." Novak sneered disdainfully, eyeing the bright florescent colors of the outfit Huggy wore.

Before Hutch could hold him back, Starsky lunged and grabbed Novak by the front of his shirt, slugging the man in his face, for the slur against his friend, sending Novak sprawling on the floor, the pleasant hum and stir of the place going suddenly silent at the ruckus.

Hutch jumped up and grabbed his angry partner before he could do anymore damage to the older cop. "If I were you," he told Novak, who was slowly getting up, "I would get my ass out of here."

"And if I were you," Huggy added, "I would never come back, because this "nigger" reserves the right to serve who the hell he chooses, and it ain't gonna be your white ass, not this evening or ever . . . ya dig? Now get the hell out!" The flamboyant dark man, stood with one hand on his hip, the other hand raised, a long slender finger pointing the direction to the door, which Novak slowly slunk out of, but not before saying, "I'll remember this Starsky . . . "

"It's okay ladies and gents," Huggy soothed his customers, "Just go back and enjoy what you were doin' before we were all so rudely interrupted." The soft whisperings soon grew into a gentle humming buzz, as everyone went about their business, sipping beer, eating and socializing with their companions. Huggy slid into the booth next to Hutch.

"Sorry Hug," Starsky said glumly, "Didn't know that asshole was followin' us."

"And who might that asshole be?" Huggy inquired, large dark eyes glanced across the table to this curly haired friend.

"He's a second class dick." Starsky grouched, much to the amusement of the other two who chuckled at that comment.

"He's a detective like us," Hutch said soberly, "Dobey assigned him and his partner to work with us on the case we're on."

"I see," the Bear said knowingly, "And would this case be dealing with an arms shipment and be somehow attached to an organization run by Sanders?"

Starsky looked quickly across the table at Hutch, then turned to eye his lanky, black friend, "Whatta ya got Hug?"

"What I got is a message that was delivered just before you boys arrived." The Bear handed the note to Hutch, who quickly began reading it, but Huggy continued on softly, dark eyes focused on cobalt blue, "It says that the big man wants to meet with the two of ya, tomorrow night, 8:00 pm at the docks. Nobody is to know of this, ya dig?"

"What does he want?" Starsky asked.

"Doesn't say," Hutch replied, handing the note over to the brunet, who read it quickly and raised bemused dark blue eyes to his friend's pale ones.

"Whatta ya think?" Starsky said softly, "A set-up?"

"Nah," Huggy said softly, "If the man wanted you two dead, you'd be smelling dirt by now. . . I think he wants to talk . . . about what . . . your guess is as good as mine.'

"It says nobody except us is to know about this or the deal is off." Hutch said, raising the mug to his lips to take a sip.

"And he would know . . . a big man like that would know how to plant bugs all over the place . . . and he knows how to exterminate 'em too."

"I say we meet," Starsky said softly, "Might help us crack this case sooner than we think."

"If we meet him, we'll be alone in this . . ." Hutch warned, his senses telling him they were making a mistake.

"We're not alone Hutch," Starsky smiled, "We got good old Hug here, and if we don't come back tomorrow evening, he's gonna make a quick phone call to Dobey . . ."

To Be Continued


	3. Chapter 3

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

**CHAPTER 3**

The next morning came sooner than either detective wished. They reported to the station at 7:45am. They burst through the squad room doors as Starsky's quick pace was brought to a screeching halt as he looked up to see Lyons and Novak sitting at their desk, Novak nursing an ugly black eye that he attempted to shield with his hand.

"Rough night Novak?" The brunet retorted, Hutch covering his mouth trying to hide his amusement.

"Zip it, wouldya?" He responded as he dropped his head again, focusing on the desk.   
Before Starsky could think of a witty remark, Dobey's door flew open and he entered the room, handing papers to Starsky and then Hutch, followed by Lyons. He held out the paper for Novak, but at the last second, he tightened his grip, not allowing his detective to take it from his pudgy fingers.

" What the hell happened to you?" Dobey asked his officer, taking quick note of his discolored face.

"Yeah Novak, why don't you explain to our African American Captain here what happened to you last night?" Starsky prodded his rival knowing that if he explained that it was Starsky that hit him, he would have to explain why.

Dobey looked over his shoulder at the curly haired detective. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked inquisitively.

"Nuthin', he doesn't mean nothing…" Novak spoke up quickly. "I had a run in with an old friend, that's all Cap'n, its nothing, really…" He tried desperately to divert the attention from this conversation.

Both Starsky and Hutch smiled satisfactorily as they noted the smirk on Lyons' face as well.

Dobey finally released the paper from his hand for Novak to take as all four men read the briefing. Latest word had it that the arms shipment was going to go down in three days, they were to continue their surveillance and inform the proper command of any new comings and goings. This whole time pictures were being taken of suspected dealers meeting with Sanders or members of his team.

Both teams headed for the garage, ready to move into position for another long day of boring observation and note-taking with the occasional photograph. They were positioned on opposite sides of the waterfront, covering both ways in and/or out for that matter.

They kept in touch by walkie-talkies as they monitored the comings and goings. At one point a long sleek black Cadillac entered the docks from Novak's side. They were suspicious that this car may contain the big man himself, Sanders. He was diligent in notifying the other team about the arrival. Starsky was quick to take the radio out of Hutch's hand.

" Listen here Novak, when this car leaves this dock, Hutch and I will tail him." Starsky instructed the other men.

"No way Starsky, we saw him first, he is our tail." Novak disputed.

" Listen here Novak, as senior officers working this case, I am telling you to stand down! Hutch and I have this one, you got that?" Starsky shouted into the radio.

"Sorry Starsky, we've seemed to drop the connection, could you please repeat last transmission…come in Starsky…Hutch do you read me…" Novak said, just goading them along.  
Starsky and Hutch stared at each other in anger, having used this trick so many times in the past with Dobey.

"Son of a bitch." Hutch snapped as Starwsky tossed the radio onto the bench seat.

----------------

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'? Starsky asked, one brow rose in silent speculation, as he eyed his blond counterpart through the dark sunglasses he wore.

"I'm thinking that we worked too damn hard, and too damn long, to just sit here and let Novak do our jobs," Hutch snapped, his eyes the color of ice, "That zealot might blow everything we've invested in this case!"

Starsky grinned and tipped his shades down his nose so that his twinkling blue eyes peeped over its rim, "Ya know Blondie, I just love it when your eyes get frosty." The brunet winked and grinned when he heard the blond snort softly, throwing the Torino into drive, as it peeled out from where they were parked at one of the entrances to the waterfront.

Two, unmarked, black sedans suddenly barred their exit from the docks.

"Shit! Hold on Hutch!" Starsky snapped, immediately stepping on the brakes, his right arm automatically reaching out to prevent his partner from flying through the windshield, as he fought to bring the Torino under control with his left. The Torino spun abruptly, fishtailing; the brakes squealed in protest as it came to a stop just within inches from hitting one of the sedans.

Four large men carrying weapons with silencers came out of the cars, immediately sticking their guns at the detective's heads. They watched as one of the thugs opened the back door to one of the sedans and Jenkins, Sanders right hand man, stepped out into the afternoon sun.

"Good afternoon detectives, I believe you already know me. I work for Mr. Sanders whom I know you've heard of. I take it you got his invitation last night? Sorry, but there's been a . . . slight change of plans for tonight's meeting." Jenkins adjusted his tie, carefully brushing and imaginary piece of lint off the sleeve of his dark suit. He adjusted his dark sunglasses and sauntered over to Starsky's open window.

"Yeah? What kind of change are we talkin' about?" Starsky drawled; the casual way he said this, belied the tenseness he felt as he stared down the barrel of the automatic.

Jenkins smiled, "While your backup is away on a wild goose chase, Mr. Sanders has decided that he would like to meet with you now." Starsky silently cursed Novak for his egotistical impulsiveness that had now put them in jeopardy.

"And if we decline Mr. Sander's offer?" Hutch asked, leaning over to stare out Starsky's window and look Jenkins in the eye

Jenkins made a theatrical sigh, shaking his head sadly, "Well, then . . . you die . . . right here and now," he said, as the detective's heard the multiple clicks of the guns hammers being drawn back. Jenkins smiled evilly, "You see detectives, Mr. Sanders can't stand rude guests. Now . . . do you accept his invitation?"

Starsky looked over at his partner, silently communicating the futileness of their refusal. Seeing the imperceptible nod of his blond companion, Starsky turned back to look at Jenkins, a huge lopsided grin on his face.

The brunet chuckled appeasingly, "Well, in that case, we accept. You see Jenkins, Hutch and I never want to appear rude." Starsky said calmly, his sarcasm barely hidden behind his gracious reply.

"Good, I'm glad we are all in agreement . . . Detective Hutchinson, you will ride with me," Jenkins said abruptly, turning to walk back to the open sedan door, as his henchman immediately opened the Torino's passenger door.

"Wha' . . . wait a minute," Starsky snapped, immediately feeling the barrel of the automatic press deeply into his temple.

The brunet looked over at his partner who smiled lamely and shrugged. The blond reached out his large, warm hand and gently squeezed the dark haired man's shoulder before stepping out of the red vehicle.

Starsky watched silently, his stormy blue eyes flashing angrily, as his blond partner was "escorted" to the sedan that Jenkins was already sitting in. The brunet felt the Torino dip as another one of Sanders' men got into the vacated passenger's seat. Starsky clenched his fingers around the steering wheel tightly, feeling the thug lean over to roughly push his jacket aside and snatch his gun from its holster.

"Hey Hutch," Starsky called out softly, taking off his sunglasses so Hutch could read his eyes, "I'll see ya,"

Hutch smiled, his blue eyes soft with affection, "Yeah buddy, drive safe."

The brunet squinted, watching as his tall blond partner got into the back seat of the sedan and closed the door. Never shifting his stormy blue gaze from the black car that swallowed his partner whole, he snapped to the thug sitting next to him, "Where to?"

"Just follow that car," the large man said, pushing the nose of the gun sharply into Starsky's ribs, "And no funny business, or your blond friend will be minus his partner."

When looking at Gary Sanders vast estate, stretching as it did across several acres of land, the beautiful, multi-leveled white mansion was built pristinely upon landscaped gardens created to be aesthetically appealing and inviting; one would never think that its owner was a ruthless syndicate mob leader, who wouldn't think twice about taking the lives of innocents in the pursuit of his own fortune.

Starsky followed the black sedan that carried his partner into the sweeping circular driveway, eyeing the second dark sedan through his rear view mirror, as it followed closely behind him.

"Get outta the car," the thug sneered, as the Torino came to stop behind Jenkins' car, "Keep your hands where I can see 'em."

Starsky slowly opened his door and got out, keeping his hands slightly raised, as he watched Hutch get out of the sedan. The blond immediately turned to look at the brunet, who made his way quickly over to his partner.

"You may put your hands down Detective Starsky," Jenkins said smiling, "After all, you are not a prisoner here, you're our guest."

Starsky lowered his hands, coming to stand next to his partner. "Yeah? Well, tell that to your trained baboon back there," Starsky said snidely, "I don' think he knew that."

Jenkins chuckled, "This way gentlemen . . . Mr. Sanders is expecting you." The detectives followed the suited man into the elegant and immense home of Gary Sanders. The sweeping staircase immediately caught the eye of both detectives, as they stood inside the immense foyer of the mansion where they were soon greeted by another man.

"This is Slingsby, an associate of Mr. Sanders," Jenkins said cordially, ushering the detectives to a large adjoining room on the left, which connected to a wide hallway with several closed doors. "Mr. Sanders will be meeting with each of you . . . privately." Jenkins said smiling, "Detective Starsky, please follow Mr. Slingsby to your room where you will . . ."

"Wait a minute," Hutch interjected angrily, "We go together to meet your boss, or no deal."

"I'm afraid that is out of the question Detective Hutchinson," Jenkins said calmly, pulling a gun out of his jacket, while Slingsby pulled his weapon out too, pointing it at the brunet, whose bright blue gaze warily eyed the automatic that jabbed at his abdomen, "We really must insist . . . now move!"

To Be Continued…


	4. Chapter 4

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

_Warning: Adult content…There is a graphic sex scene, that I guess could be considered rape…if you are offended by that, please don't read any further…_

**Head Games**

**CHAPTER 4**

Reluctantly Starsky and Hutch followed the less than favorable instructions as Starsky walked slowly in front of Slingsby. Jenkins made sure that Hutch waited briefly before following suit. They were both led down a long corridor, Starsky being directed into the third room on the left, looking back over his shoulder at his partner, their eyes locking briefly, speaking volumes.

'_Be careful…see you soon.'_

Both detectives nodded at each other in mutual understanding and regard as Starsky disappeared behind the door of his room. Hutch was then guided into his room on the right, the door being closed behind him, and locked, leaving him alone in the sparsely decorated area, the only furniture to speak of being a desk with an office chair.

Jenkins joined Slingsby and Starsky. He entered the conference room, closing the door quietly behind him. Starsky had been sat at the large mahogany table, Jenkins standing behind the temperamental brunet, Sanders sitting across from him. The tension that hovered in the room was heavy and thick. Starsky sat, defensively in his chair as Sanders eyed him, sizing up the man that he had heard so much about.

"Now detective, we all know each other…I mean you and your fellow officers have been watching me for, what, about 2 months now?" Sanders spoke, pausing briefly, waiting for an answer.

"Sounds about right." Starsky muttered, not offering any more information.

"Well lets just get straight to the point, see I believe that every man has his price, and so does every public servant." Sanders spoke professionally and eloquently. "I would like to offer you and your partner the chance of a life time, independent wealth beyond your wildest dreams."

"Fo'get it…we ain't interested…see me an' Hutch don't swing that way. We like our jobs, we like righting wrongs, protectin' the innocent, but most of all, we like putting assholes like you, that think you're above the law, behind bars." Starsky quipped as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the impressive table, crossing his forearms over each other.

"I wouldn't decline my offer too quickly Detective Starsky, see if you choose to forgo the invitation I have so graciously extended to you and your partner, well it comes with certain consequences…" Sanders seethed

Starsky sat up straighter, the chill that ran down his spine with those words affecting his posture. He suddenly became grossly aware that this meeting may not have been such a good idea after all.

"Besides, do you have any idea how quickly I can get you reappointed to a higher office in your department…you can continue to do all those things to 'love' and get more pay for doing it." Sanders leaned over the table. "Do you have any idea how powerful I am?"

"With all due respect, I don't give a rat's ass how important you are, me an' Hutch ain't doin' your dirty work, ya' hear me? Now where the hell is my partner?" Starsky asked, his irritation and apprehension growing.

Starsky tried to stand up, only to find himself shoved back down into the chair by the two men standing behind him. He sighed in frustration, trying to continue to keep his cool and keep from going off on the three men in the room.

"You may be powerful to all the thugs and whippos in this town, but you mean nuthin' to Hutch an' me, so if you'll excuse us, we have a job to do." Starsky once again attempted to stand, but didn't even get his back end off of his chair.

"Go get his partner ready." Sanders ordered as Jenkins picked up the phone and dialed 3 numbers, obviously an inside extension.

"Take the blond to the observation room, make sure he's comfortable…let him know the show should be starting shortly." Jenkins instructed the person on the other end.

Starsky's fear just reached a new level. "What in the hell do mean get 'im ready? What the fuck are you doing to him?" Starsky spewed, allowing the panic he was feeling inside to begin to surface.

The brunet was always good at keeping his cool, his cocky presentation, he never feared for his own life, if it was his time, then it was his time, and rarely did he allow fear to enter into his emotions when his life was on the line, but when it came to Hutch's life ending, that terrified him. Hutch was his other half, and he couldn't imagine continuing without him. If someone ever asked him what scared him, that would have to be the only answer he could think of, and the one thing that scared him the most.

Both Jenkins and Slingsby each grabbed one of Starsky's upper arm, jerking him up out of the chair, Jenkins had already pulled his weapon in anticipation of and resistance by the moody brunet. The three of them left the room, this time being followed by their leader, Sanders. "Take him to the head room." He ordered as he made a stop at another of the many rooms down the large corridor.

oooOOOooo

"You and your partner have been thorns in my side for far too long," Sanders sneered, taking a long drag at the wet, darkened end of his cigar, "It was time I took things into my own hands, and I think I was not wrong in assuming that perhaps you . . . or your partner . . . would concede in becoming. . . shall we say . . . paid employees of my organization? You both have a conviction and a drive that I find most lacking in our deplorable society today . . . it would be a waste to blow such young and idealistic men like yourselves away . . . I could find better positions for the both of you, here in my organization, rather than those pathetic cop wages they pay you." Sanders took another drag and blew the cigar smoke into the face of the blond detective.

Hutch blinked as the wretched smoke stung his eyes, his pale, blue orbs never leaving the familiar figure he could see thru the 2 way mirror, sitting rigidly on a hard backed chair in the gray room. His heart longed to be with his partner, knowing how uncertain he felt, there in that room alone. They had struggled as they were separated, but the gun against the blonde's head had been the determining factor that made the brunet go willingly with the two thugs, who threw him into the adjoining room, forcing him to sit in the chair. "Yeah? Well, no thanks . . . my partner and I aren't into blood money Sanders. There are things more important than money, despite what you think, not everyone can be bought for a lousy buck." Hutch said defiantly.

The older man chuckled, sucking for a while on the cigar butt, eyeing the brunet through the mirror, "Many men have sold their souls for less detective. Money, like sex, has a strange way of making people lose what is usually held sacred to them, their moral and values, their self control . . . take your partner there for instance, I bet we could make him change his mind about certain things . . . make him concede his morals . . . give up his self control." The large man walked to the mirror and observed the brunet. "Let us bet, shall we . . . Detective Hutchinson? You and your partner are very close . . . everyone on the streets knows of your trust and faith in one another . . . ready to lose your own life to spare the life of the other. I bet that I can make your partner lose his self control, even knowing that doing so, would cost him your life."

Hutch snorted softly, breaking into a chuckle. Knowing his stubborn, tenacious partner the way he did, he highly doubted that anything would make his partner lose it, if his life was at stake. "And if we bet with you . . . and you lose . . . we go free?" Hutch asked, his ice blue gaze frozen on the crime boss.

"You think too highly of your stubborn partner," the large man said, as he ground his smelly cigar out in the ashtray that sat in the middle of the table. "We all believe we are in control of ourselves . . . but really detective, self control is something very rare. Alright, it is a bet. We will see if your partner is as strong as you say . . . but if he gives in, you die!" Sanders nodded to the two burly men who stood to the side of the room, "Watch him" Sanders directed to the man with the gun, "Make sure Detective Hutchinson has the best seat in the house." the crime boss said as he left the room.

Hutch watched through the mirror, aching to be with his partner, knowing the thoughts that were racing uncertainly through Starsky's mind. He watched as the three large men and a beautiful blond entered the room Starsky was held in, and saw his partner's body grow tense. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could tell by his partner's actions that his defiant partner wouldn't be as cooperative as they thought.

oooOOOooo

He sat in a cold gray room, the only other furniture was a small wood table, and another plain wooden chair like the one he sat in. Against the wall to his left was a mirror, seemingly out of place and he knew what purpose it held. It was a 2-way mirror, much like those used at the station for interrogating prisoners, allowing others to observe everything transpiring from another room. There was a woman who had already been in the room, waiting for their arrival.

Sanders sat across from him as once again, Slingsby and Jenkins flanked the brunet. The woman swaggered up to the older gentleman, seductively placing her hand on his shoulders, caressing his chest as she eyed Starsky hungrily, licking her lips and smiling like she was about to get the prize.

"So detective Starsky, you and your partner have become quite a nuisance to me and my organization. I think it is time for the both of you to learn the true meaning of self control…" He explained as he took the female by the hand and guided her around to the front of him, eyeing her approvingly, "Self control is something very few men possess. And even fewer know how to use."

"Where's my partner?" Starsky seethed, looking at his captor with pure hatred.

"He's safe, and he'll stay that way if you can manage to prove yourself to me. I have a game I like to play, and to the winner goes the prize." He stated eerily as the woman moved in front of the older man. "Let me introduce Sasha, she is a woman of many talents." He said as the female bent down, kneeling in front of the nervous detective.

"Listen Sanders," Starsky began to object, "I don't know what kind of a game you're talkin' about here, but I ain't playin', now where in the hell is my partner?" He demanded answers.

Without warning, both of his arms were seized and jerked behind him by the two men standing at his side, his heartbeat increased as he swallowed hard, in fear for what was unfolding before him.

oooOOOooo

Hutch had to keep himself from jolting up as he watched the two burly men snag his partner's arm tightly behind the chair, watching as more silent dialogue between them ensued. He could feel the sudden fear in his partner, watched as a sweat beaded across Starsky's lip. The blond could feel his heart accelerate, his chest laboring to breathe as he watched the woman kneeling in front of his partner as he struggled to free himself.

oooOOOooo

"Let me explain the rules Detective," Sanders continued as the female moved closer to Starsky, "Sasha here has perfected a certain technique, shall we say, that very few men can resist. Especially those men who lack the self control that one develops through personal pain and sacrifice…"

She crawled closer to him, her hand finding his left leg, slowly stroking his inner thigh, moving upwards as Starsky flinched causing her to smile. She brought her body up between his legs as she slowly started to unbutton his shirt, her hands rubbing his chest in fevered desire.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Starsky stammered, the sweat starting to bead up on his upper lip.

She stood up before him, straddling his lap, he could feel her warmth against his groin as she hooked both arms around his neck, leaning in and nipping at his ear lobes. He tried to jerk his head away, just to have her mouth follow, trailing down his neck with her tongue, and breathing heavily as she kissed and teased with her wet lips. He felt her hips begin to slowly rock back and forth against his lap, seductively and longingly, slowly tantalizing him as he fought against the sensation. Her breasts were pressed against his chest as he felt her nipples become harder and harder through her lace blouse. She pulled his head forward as the men behind him fought to hold his arms; his head then buried in her ample cleavage as she taunted him with sensations. The pace of her hips grinding against his began to increase, the friction warming over his lap as his body couldn't help but respond. She allowed one of her hands to pull free and make its way down his chest, rubbing, pinching and teasing as it made its way between her legs, grabbing his penis through his pants, and rubbing her palm across his jeans. He unintentionally moaned out loud as he tried to fight her advances.

"Here are the rules…" Sanders explained as he enjoyed the confusion and fear that the brunet was showing, "…We have your partner, over there in that room," he pointed to the wall that held the two-way mirror, "and he will stay safe if you can manage to pass my test."

Starsky's gaze shifted from the girl between on his lap and the man in the chair across from him, as he struggled to free himself from the two men that held him firmly, rocking the chair back and forth. He couldn't help but think about what kind of sick game they had in mind, they enjoyed terrorizing their victims ruthlessly and he was sure that he and Hutch would be no exception.

The girl on his lap stopped gyrating and stood up in front of him, her hands unbuttoning her own blouse and stripping it off with a fluid like motion, she licked her lips as Starsky watched. Both of her hands traveled down her body to her waist as Starsky turned his head, looking into the mirror, searching for Hutch's image. She knelt before him as she crawled closer, smiling as her eyes bore into his.

He looked down; his eyes growing wide in surprise as he felt the girl's hand on his pants, unsnapping them and slowly lowering the zipper, he looked back up at Sanders.

"What are you doing? Why are you doing this?" He stammered as he actually felt himself become slightly aroused.

oooOOOooo

"What the fuck is going on?" Hutch snapped, icy blue eyes never leaving his partner's face, watching Starsky's cobalt eyes grow wide with surprise as the woman put her small dainty hands on his pants, unsnapping and lowering his zipper . . .

oooOOOooo

"If you can keep yourself from, shall we say, responding to her advances, then your partner will live…" He said evilly, "…but if you allow yourself to succumb to her pleasures, I kill him…" He stated, matter of factly as the woman giggled and dipped her head lower.

Starsky could feel her hot breath on his lower stomach as she reached inside his jeans, he gasped as he felt the flesh on flesh contact of her hand against his penis as she took it firmly in her palm. She delivered strategically place kisses under his belly button, allowing her tongue to travel downwards leaving a moist path behind it. Her hand started to slowly pump as Starsky tried to pull back.

oooOOOooo

**Hutch watched his partner's futile struggles against the men holding him, seeing him gasp, as the beautiful blond woman grasped Starsky's dick in the warmth of her hand. He watched as his partner closed his stormy, blue eyes and trembled, feeling the heat of the woman's moist tongue, as it traveled downward from his navel, while her small hand began to pump his cock rhythmically.**

**"You sick bastards!" Hutch shouted, unaware that he was already rising to his feet, until he felt the burly man behind him shove him back down in the hard chair.**

**"Sit down and shut the fuck up," the thug snarled," Mr. Sanders don't want you to miss the show . . . "the large man said as he held the gun against the blonde's temple.**

**Hutch could tell that his partner was shouting out something, but his eyes focused once again on the petite blond who knelt between Starsky's thighs, his pale blue eyes latched onto the almost hypnotic motions of the woman's hand, as she methodically stroked the entire length of the brunet's shaft.**

oooOOOooo

"You're nuts, you know that? You're crazy, all of you!" Starsky shouted as he pierced his lips together, willing his mind to control his body's reaction to her sensuous touches.

He felt the air hit his slowly growing erection as she exposed him fully, her hand still stroking, gently, methodically, the entire length of his shaft.

"I won't let you do this, you hear me? You won't get away with this!" He screamed, his whole body breaking out in a sweat. He grew angry at his body for responding to her, for betraying him and actually enjoying the pleasure that she was providing. He thought about his partner, he tried to focus, to concentrate on his best friend's life, trying to fill his mind with unpleasant images, willing away the stimulating effects that she was creating with her expertise. He almost succeeded until Starsky felt her warm, wet tongue flick lightly over the head of his penis, teasingly. He gasped again.

"Don't do this, please don't do this." He pled, almost in a whimper.

She looked up at him, her large dark brown eyes staring into his soul, knowing he wanted her to stop, but begging her to continue in the same gaze. She smiled and then without warning, devoured the entire length of his dick with one quick movement. Starsky shuddered at the incredible sensation. She swallowed him whole, keeping his entire length in her mouth and swallowing to increase the suction, causing him to cry out.

"She's quite good, now isn't she?" Sanders asked the detective, enjoying the scene playing out before him.

"Stop this…" He growled, fighting against himself in a war of wills.

oooOOOooo

**Hutch could see that his partner was valiantly trying to fight arousal, growing angry with himself when he couldn't stop his body from its betrayal, as his shaft lengthened and hardened under the woman's adept ministrations. From where he sat, Hutch could see the fine sheen of perspiration on his partner's face, watching as he dropped his head back, panting heavily, his rigid body jolting as the young woman opened her red painted lips wide and swallowed the length of his partner's shaft down her warm, wet throat.**

**oooOOOooo**

The woman between his legs felt his dick began to pulse in her mouth and she knew she was the one in control, she held his fate in her mouth and that excited her. She started to slowly move her mouth up and down the entire length of his cock, moaning as she began to taste his flavor.

"Oh God, stop this, please…" Starsky whispered as he let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling for some divine intervention, knowing that he no longer could stop what was happening to him, he had reached the point of no return. He thought about Hutch, he begged for forgiveness as the girl continued to work him.

She grabbed the base of his fully erect cock and now began to pump it furiously, in time with her mouth, allowing the head of is penis to actually hit the back of her throat before pulling it back out again, just to repeat the action. Her other hand cupped his balls as she felt his body tense up, preparing itself for release.

oooOOOooo

**Starsky was gasping, shuddering as he fought for control against the mouth that moved up and down along the length of his shaft. Hutch could see her stroking his partner's balls, rolling them deftly in one hand, as she grabbed the base of his cock with the other, and pumped quickly to the movements of her wet, warm mouth. To his horror and shame, the blond detective could feel his own cock growing hard and rigid, his breathing quickening in time to the beating of his heart.**

**"Sasha's can blow any man's balls blue" the thug chuckled, "Damn she's got a mouth on her!"**

**Hutch could hear the large man next to him beginning to breath heavy too, caught up in the excitement and heat of the moment as much as he was. The thought that they were both getting off on his partner's anguish and torment sickened the blond.**

**oooOOOooo**

"No!!! No!!!" He shouted as his hips involuntarily lifted off the chair as he felt his orgasm begin to rise. "You fucking bitch!" He shouted as he released himself into her mouth and she sucked even harder, making sure she drained him of every drop. He sobbed as he finished coming, knowing that Hutch was now in danger because of his lack of control.

oooOOOooo

**By the trembling in his partner's legs, Hutch knew Starsky was nearly at the breaking point. He watched his partner's hips lift out of the chair as his orgasm spewed into the woman's willing mouth, seeing her throat muscles working as she drained the cum from the brunet's cock.**

**Hutch could see the mixed emotions on his partner's sweaty face . . . the satisfaction, the shame, the anger, the fear . . . and for a moment, Hutch could have sworn that his partner's stormy blue eyes connected with his own through the mirror, conveying without words all that was in his heart, begging for forgiveness, his fear for his partner's life evident in the vivid blue of his eyes.**

**"Say goodbye pig," the thug snarled, cocking the gun, digging the metal barrel into the side of the blond's head.**

**oooOOOooo**

She released his dick from her mouth as she wiped the back of her hand across her chin, smiling at him. He was panting, breathing hard, when he heard the echo of a gunshot come from the other room…

"HUTCH!!!!!" Starsky shouted, feeling like he had just lost the most important thing in this world, his best friend!

To Be Continued…


	5. Chapter 5

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

**CHAPTER 5**

The echoing sound of the gunshot reverberated throughout his body and shook the dark haired detective. _Hutch!_ He stood up abruptly, but was forced back down into his seat. "You fuckin' bastards!" he snarled, struggling against the strong hands that held him down, hearing their loud, boisterous laughing ringing out in the enclosed room, his heart dying as he thought of his blond counterpart lying dead somewhere. His soul cried out in anguish at the thought of his body's betrayal against both Hutch and himself, and he once more renewed his struggles.

"Now, now detective, nothing to get all excited about," Sanders laughed, "I would think you would be thanking me right now for my generous attempt at offering you some "relief" after all, you were rather tense when you walked in here. We know what a tough job surveillance can be," he sneered. "No one can ever doubt my generosity as a host . . . for I did offer you the best . . . Sasha's so . . . oral . . . and so good with her mouth . . . and I know for a fact, the rest of her can be quite as delectable as well."

"Where the fuck is Hutch?" Starsky snapped, his eyes flashing angrily, trying to still the rapid beating of his heart . . . if Hutch were dead . . .

Gary Sanders laughed hysterically out loud, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand, as he tried to catch his breath, "Ah . . . that was quite enjoyable . . . you should have seen the look on your face Detective Starsky when the gun went off. I wish I had a camera . . . the look in your eyes were priceless." Sanders settled down and smiled into the angry face of the brunet, "Now what kind of face is that? By your angry scowl, I take it you didn't really care for my 'head' games," This pun set off another round of laughing. Sanders smiled, "Don't worry detective, I can assure you, you're partner is fine and very much alive. In fact, he's in the other room watching us now as we speak."

Sanders chuckled again, "You know, your partner had the best view in the house . . . watching that rather. . . erotic show you and Sasha put on. I wouldn't be surprised if he had a hard on himself . . . I know I did." Sanders chuckled again. "Then again, maybe Detective Hutchinson is rather disappointed that you had so little self-control, especially when it was his life that was to be forfeited. Maybe he's lost a little faith in you after you thought so little of him . . . I mean, let's face it Starsky . . . you were only thinking with that little head of yours down there . . . you could have cared less if we'd blown your partner away."

Starsky glared at his chuckling host, his dark blue eyes throwing daggers, his fists clenched tight. It made him sick to think that Hutch had witnessed his degradation and shame. _'How could he have let his partner down that way? How could he have given in like that?'_ the brunet thought, berating himself silently, knowing that Hutch wouldn't have given in if the roles had been reversed.

Starsky would have hung his head with the humiliation that overflowed in his heart, but he defiantly resisted the impulse to do so. Never would he acknowledge and concede to this sick bastard what he was truly feeling inside. He pushed his humiliation down and filled his heart with raging anger instead. "You don' know nuthin' about Hutch and me . . . and you can go fuck yourself Sanders" Starsky growled, "Now that you've had your fill of laughing like some sick hyena, let me get my partner and we'll get outta here."

"Now detective, you're such a party pooper . . . and leaving unfortunately, is not going to be as simple as that, I'm afraid," Sanders said mockingly.

"Yeah? Whatta ya want with us, Sanders?" Starsky asked, feeling the cold finger of fear run down his spine, his heart filling with dread and apprehension.

Sanders smiled evilly, " I need you to do me a little . . . shall we say . . . favor?" The crime boss gave an almost imperceptible nod to his men, who immediately let the brunet detective go. Sanders smiled, "Sorry for that detective, but earlier you weren't as cooperative . . .."

"Yeah? And what makes you think I'm gonna be cooperative now?" Starsky said defiantly.

"Oh come on detective, let's start thinking with the 'big' head you got . . .on top of those broad shoulders of yours . . . shall we? "Your partner is still a "guest" of mine too, if you haven't forgotten." Sanders smiled cordially.

At the brunet's angry silence the older man continued, "Tonight, the arms shipment we've been expecting will be arriving on pier 12, just before 9:00 p.m. I want you to make sure that everything goes smoothly this evening and that we get our cargo right on time as usual."

Starsky's mind raced, as far as Dobey and the department knew, the shipment was scheduled to arrive three days from now. If the shipment came in tonight like Sanders said, there would only be the surveillance team on duty. The sound of Sanders laughing brought him back to the predicament he was in.

"Don't look so shocked detective, do you think I got where I am by myself? I have many powerful "friends" in my employ. I knew you were expecting the shipment to come three days from now, that's why I moved the date up. Ingenious wouldn't you agree?" Sanders chuckled, he nodded to Jenkins who stood up and walked out of the room.

Starsky eyed his departure and turned his glare onto the older man, "Well, if you know so much, then you know there'll only be a few men there . . . nothing your creeps couldn't handle. Hutch and me don't need to be there . . ."

"I don't want any mistakes detective, and you need to make sure there'll be none . . . in return, you'll get your precious Hutch back once I get my shipment. Until then, your partner will remain as my guest here."

Both men turned to look to the door when it opened, Jenkins motioned Hutch in with a wave of his gun. Hutch walked in with Jenkins right behind him, carrying a white towel, which he tossed on the wooden table. The tall blond looked to his partner, "You okay?" he said gently, his voice velvet soft and soothing.

Starsky could see the concern in his partner's soft blue eyes, and he nodded miserably, turning his gaze to the floor, not trusting his voice to speak. He felt ashamed to look at Hutch, knowing his tall blond friend had witnessed that depravity Sanders had forced upon him. The brunet felt dirty and disillusioned with himself and it sickened him to think that he had lost it back there, especially when Hutch's life was on the line.

"I heard," Hutch said simply, glaring at Sanders, "No deal . . . Starsky and I go together. It's not going to fly if I'm not there . . . there'll be too many questions asked. If you want it to go smoothly and if you want your shipment on time, then both Starsky and I need to be there."

Hutch knew his partner felt horrible and wanted to give him some time to compose himself. It angered the blond to know that Sanders had played his sick games on them, and even now, wanted to use them to aid him in his underhanded dealings.

"I am not asking you for your opinion, Detective Hutchinson," Sanders snapped, nodding to two of his men who immediately grabbed the blond while Jenkins suddenly slugged him in the stomach.

Starsky angrily jumped to his feet, as his partner doubled over, gasping in his attempts to draw in much needed air. The brunet moved quickly towards his partner, but he abruptly stopped in his tracks when Jenkins grabbed a handful of blond hair and dug the nose of the gun into Hutch's temple.

Sanders rolled his eyes, and dusted his hands, "Really, Detective Hutchinson, you must learn some manners and speak, only when spoken to. Now Detective Starsky, do we have a deal then?"

"No Starsk," Hutch gasped, one arm wrapped around his mid-section. He grunted as another thug kicked him hard in his side.

"Fuckin' bastards," Starsky growled, "You touch Hutch one more time and you're a dead man." The brunet eyed the gun that dug into the side of his friend's head, as Hutch scrunched his eyes closed and tried to ride out the pain.

"It all stops when you agree to help us, detective," Sanders said amiably, lighting another cigar that he took from his inner coat pocket. He puffed on it slowly, like he had all the time in the world, "Your decision . . . what will it be?"

"I'll do it on the condition that Hutch is with me . . . he's right . . . it'll be too suspicious if we weren't together . . . too many questions will be asked . . ."

"Oh please Starsky, stop parroting your partner . . . you're a sharp lad, you'll think of some excuse . . . especially if you knew your friend's life depended on it. Sanders paused, and then chuckled loudly, "Then again, based on your performance with Sasha, maybe you're partner's life is not as good a bargaining tool as I first thought it to be." Sanders laughed out loud again, his men snickering along with him.

"Don't listen to that shit Starsky," Hutch gasped, knowing Sanders was just trying to play another head game with his partner.

"Jenkins," Sanders said softly, "Detective Hutchinson needs a little lesson on shutting his mouth."

Starsky launched across the room, slugging one thug in the face, before he was grabbed by two others and forced down to his knees.

Sanders puffed his cigar and looked bored, "I've asked you for a personal favor Starsky, but I can see you need to be persuaded to think the way I do," He nodded once more to his right hand man, and at Jenkins' slight nod, Hutch was dragged to the table by two burly men, who held out his left hand flat against the tabletop. The two burly men struggled to keep the blond's hand still, as he fought against his captors.

Starsky struggled against the two men holding him down, watching in horror as Jenkins took a long metal letter opener from the desk drawer and held it's sharpened point above Hutch's hand.

"No," Starsky shouted, his cobalt blue eyes wide with fear for his partner, "I'll do it . . . just . . . just don't hurt Hutch no more . . ." the brunet gasped.

Sanders smiled, "Thank you for your decision detective . . . and just so you know that I mean business . . " he nodded silently to Jenkins, who quickly stabbed the metal point into the blond's hand, pinning it to the desktop.

The blond cried out, his whole body stiffening in excruciating pain, as the blade pierced through his hand.

"Huuutch!" Starsky hollered, struggling to free himself, so that he could render aid to his wounded partner.

"Know that I will not hesitate to kill your partner should you fail me detective," Sanders said softly, "I will let you relax for a few hours with your friend until you need to leave again for the docks. Let him go boys, we have some business to attend to. Oh, and do try to clean up all of that blood, Detective Hutchinson, the maid might not want to do it."

The thugs let Starsky go and Sanders and his men filed out from the room. The brunet quickly went over to the desk where his partner was pinned, his eyes horror filled, as he stared at the letter opener sticking out obscenely from the back of his partner's hand. Hutch's fingers trembled and twitched spasmodically.

"Oh God Hutch, " Starsky gasped, grabbing the towel Jenkins had tossed so carelessly. It was obvious that they had already meant to do this to Hutch. "Hold on buddy," he said, shredding the towel after he tore it a little with his teeth. He would need bandages to stem the flow of blood from Hutch's hand.

"Hey, hey you still with me huh?" Starsky gasped, hating to do what he had to do next. He saw his partner's weak smile, the perspiration making Hutch's pale skin almost glow with the sheen.

"I'm o-okay," Hutch's said, wincing, as Starsky stood beside him. The brunet rubbed his hands along the length of his jeans, wiping the sweat from them, "Okay Hutch, hang on to me buddy, gonna pull this out on a count of three okay? One . . ." Starsky quickly yanked the opener out of his parnter's hand before he could tense up, cringing when he heard Hutch groan in pain. He helped Hutch sit on the floor, easing his back against the wall, grabbing the makeshift bandages as he did so.

"I-I knew you were gonna do that," Hutch said, cradling his bleeding hand, "Still hurt though . . ."

"Yeah?" Starsky said softly, wishing he could clean out the puncture wound before wrapping it. He went back to the table and looked in the drawer, finding a small bottle of whiskey, as Hutch closed his eyes.

Starsky scrambled back to his wounded partner, trying to keep the worry from entering his voice, "This ain't nuthin . . . remember when you were pinned under that junk you call a car . . . huh? This is a piece'a cake when compared to that."

Starsky opened the bottle and poured a liberal amount over the entrance and exit wounds in Hutch's hand, wincing, as his partner hissed and tensed. "Sorry pal," the brunet said softly. Starsky glanced over at this partner then to make sure he was okay, but quickly looked down again as he began to apply direct pressure to stop the bleeding.

Hutch gritted his teeth, as the pain pulsed in his hand, "You sh-shouldn't sell the department out Starsk, call Dobey when you get out of here . . . d-don't worry about me . . . " Hutch said, squeezing his wrist tightly to help stem the flow of blood, the nerves in his hand screaming out to be heard.

Starsky said nothing, his mind racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to get both of them outta here in once piece. Starsky once again checked the puncture sites, noticing the bleeding had slowed down to a mere trickle; he quickly busied himself with bandaging up this partner's hand, unconsciously avoiding direct eye contact with Hutch.

"Lemme check your ribs Hutch," Starsky said, gently opening his partner's shirt to probe carefully at the blond's side. Hutch groaned softly, his body growing rigid, though his partner's touch was gentle. Starsky could see the bruises already forming on his partner's pale, smooth skin."

Hutch winced at the gentle prodding, as his dark haired partner leaned over his mid section. He could smell the familiar scent of sandalwood, and it comforted the blond immensely, filling his mind with fond memories of their times together.

"I don' think nuthin's broken . . . just gonna be real sore and bruised for a while." Starsky said softly, helping his partner to sit up a little straighter, realizing that he still couldn't bring himself to look at Hutch.

The dark haired detective could feel his partner gaze, knowing those pale, blue eyes were staring intently at him and he suddenly felt the warm hand of Hutch, as the blond gently squeezed his shoulder, twisting his heart in anguish with that gentle touch.

"Hey buddy," Hutch said softly, "You don't need to do that."

"Do what?" Starsky murmured, examining the knot to the bandages on his partner's hand, making sure that the bandages weren't tied too tightly, cutting off circulation. He knew what Hutch was trying to do, and it made him angry inside, not at Hutch, but at himself. How could he have let go like that and lose all self-control, especially when it could have cost his partner his life. The guilt weighed heavily on his heart, and shame and degradation washed over him once again, his stormy blue gaze fixated on the knot he just adjusted.

"Hey," Hutch's voice gently drew his attention back and he felt the warmth of his partner's hand again, gently rubbing the tenseness from his back muscles. "You didn't do anything wrong Starsk."

Starsky looked up at Hutch then, his dark blue eyes were filled with pain, guilt and humiliation swam in its depths. "How can you say that? Hutch, you saw what happened . . . you saw what I

. . . what I did."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Hutch reiterated, "You . . ."

"I fuckin' came Hutch," Starsky snapped suddenly, blue eyes flashing angrily as red hot anger and disgust for himself rose to the forefront, "I came in her mouth for Christ's sake . . . what kinda sick pervert can do that, with all those creeps watchin' and knowin' they were gonna kill you if I . . . if I lost it. How could anyone cum under those conditions huh? I'm as sick as them, for getting off!" Starsky said, closing his eyes tightly, shutting Hutch out from the pain and suffering that was eating him up alive, hanging his head now in shame like he wanted to do so long ago.

For a moment, silence ensued, then Hutch's soft voice permeated the stillness of the room, "If you're a pervert for achieving an orgasm, then I must be a sick voyeuristic bastard," Hutch said, snorting softly, "I got hard just from watching." The blond had the decency to blush, when Starsky slowly raised his head to look his partner in the eye.

"Wha'?" Starsky said softly, an incredulous look on his face, his dark blue eyes searching his partner's face to see if Hutch was just messin' with him. All he saw was open honesty; the red creeping up his partner's neck was testimony that Hutch was speaking the truth.

"You got hard . . . watchin'?" Starsky whispered, seeing his partner nodding silently.

Hutch smiled shyly, "Yeah . . . and I even had a gun to my head." The blond suddenly chuckled, as his partner's bright blue eyes widened in disbelief. "Oh c'mon Starsk," Hutch said smiling, "We're healthy men . . . who haven't had sex for a while . . ."

"Yeah? Well, how do you know I haven't recently been with a lady." Starsky asked, blue eyes twinkling as he cockily raised his chin a notch.

"Well, since we've been together almost every minute of the day and night, with surveillances, stake outs and paperwork since this arms shipment case got thrown in our laps, I'd say I'm making a pretty good guess . . . unless you count beating your meat as sex." Hutch said smiling, his pale, blue eyes growing soft with affection for his rambunctious partner, whose eyes widened even more at the last statement he made, his mouth dropping open with astonishment.

Hutch laughed out loud from the look on his partner's face, "Oh c'mon Starsk," Hutch grinned, "Don't act like you've never done that either." Hutch chuckled again, then winced in pain, pressing his uninjured hand against his side.

"You see Blondie," Starsky grinned, "That's what you get for speakin' so nasty. My ma would be shocked at your insinuations . . . she never raised me to beat my own meat!" Both men laughed again, feeling the tension and guilt draining from their bodies.

Starsky sat beside Hutch, feeling the blond lean tiredly against him, after their laughing fit ended. He gently threw his arm over his buddy's shoulder, pulling him closer against his side, feeling Hutch's warmth flow through him like a comforting blanket. Starsky felt so grateful for Hutch's warm wisdom and insight . . . only Hutch could make him feel absolved from guilt and pain, and he squeezed his partner's shoulder affectionately. "How you holdin' up Blintz . . . huh?" the brunet asked softly, knowing his partner was hurting and feeling exhausted.

"I'm fine," Hutch mumbled, his blond lashes were almost invisible against his pale Nordic complexion, "You gotta promise me you're gonna tell Dobey okay Starsk? Don't go it alone . . ." Hutch murmured softly, his head slowly falling to rest on Starsky's shoulder.

Starsky smiled, knowing that his partner was concerned about him, made him feel special and loved. The fondness and bond he felt for his friend flooded his heart, yet he was still worried. Starsky knew his partner needed to go to the hospital to check out his hand, thoughts of infection and fever troubled the brunet, but he pushed those fears down and concentrated on what he should do to get them out of this mess alive. "Shhh . . . don' worry about me buddy, jus' get some rest okay? Go to sleep Hutch . . . I'll be right here for now, not goin' anywhere."

The dark haired detective listened to the slow, gentle breathing of his partner, as his mind threw around some ideas, but in the end, it boiled down to doing what they wanted, for Hutch's life. He was tired, the late night surveillances and the late hours at the station were beginning to take a toll on him and Hutch. Starsky closed his eyes, his dark, heavy lashes lay smudged against his cheeks, his weary mind shut down, listening only to the comforting sounds of Hutch's breathing, feeling his partner's silky blond strands of hair under his chin, his body feeling that lethargic, relaxedness that came with sexual release. Although the brunet struggled to think and fought valiantly to stay away, in the end, Morpheus claimed victory over the stubborn detective.

Starsky startled awake, hearing voices at the door. He silently cursed himself for falling asleep the way he did. . His arm and shoulder had gone to sleep with Hutch's heavy head pressed against it and he gently shook Hutch awake, as the door was yanked open from the outside.

"Ah, look boys, "Sanders cooed, "Isn't that just too precious? Had I known you'd want to sleep together, I'd have offered you a king sized bed."

The crime boss looked at his watch, "It's that time Detective Starsky. I'm sending you back to the docks a little early to make sure that you've cleared the cops away, so that my men can unload the barge, carrying the armament easily. You'll have a few hours to go home, shower and change, get something to eat. You need to wash off all of that blood, or someone might get suspicious." Sanders chuckled.

Hutch struggled to sit up, his hand throbbing mercilessly, to the rapid beating of his heart. He felt weary and disoriented, but he wasn't about to let his partner go out there alone. "Starsk," he groaned softly.

"No Hutch . . . don't," Starsky said, worried that his partner's weak protests would cause Sanders to unleash his anger again.

Starsky helped Hutch to sit up straighter, then stood to face the older man. "I'll do it," Starsky snarled, "But nothing else happens to Hutch while I'm gone ya hear? And when I get back, me and Hutch leave here together."

Starsky looked down into the cloudy blue eyes of the blond. He could feel how tired Hutch was from the blood loss and pain, and he knew that his partner was probably feeling confused by being woken so abruptly; the brunet's hard, blue eyes softened as he gazed down at the blond, who sat there weak as a kitten, "Take it easy buddy, I'll be back soon." Though he longed to hold Hutch and comfort him back to sleep, Starsky turned his gaze back to the Sanders, his dark blue eyes grew cold and menacing, "And you . . .you take care of 'im . . .ya understand?

Sanders gave the brunet the once over. The detective's stare was unrelenting, and there was an unspoken challenge of retaliation if any more harm came to the blond. Gone was the softness that Starsky exhibited to his partner just a moment ago, in its place, was a hardened, streetwise cop and the older man knew that Starsky would keep his unspoken promise of retribution should any more harm come to his friend while he was away.

For a brief second, Sanders felt fear creep into his heart. He stared into that unblinking, fathomless blue stare from the dark haired detective, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably, "But of course, detective . . . Hutchinson will be our . . . guest . . . while you're away, and when you return, we'll talk."


	6. Chapter 6

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Warning: The racial slurs in this chapter in NO way represent the views of the writers…**

**Head Games**

**CHAPTER SIX**

He drove quickly to his place, his mind and heart still back in the small room with his wounded partner. It killed Starsky to have to leave Hutch like that, bleeding and vulnerable . . . leaving him with the bad guys tore a hole in the brunet's heart, and he vowed to himself to bring Hutch home with him tonight.

Starsky parked the Torino and ran up the steps to his apartment. He tore off his bloody shirt. _Hutch's blood_. The thought sickened him and his partner's golden, laughing visage suddenly appeared in his mind's eye. Starsky quickly shrugged off that image and jumped in the shower. His mind was already thinking up excuses to get rid of the surveillance team that was set up at the docks tonight. Damn!

He soaped up his chest, the hot water pounding on the nape of his neck and back felt good and eased the tightness there. _Hutch._ Starsky closed his eyes, breathing hard. If he was to pull it off tonight, then he was in for the performance of his life . . . for Hutch's life. He was a damn good actor when he was undercover, and Starsky had to view tonight as such . . . that he was undercover on an assignment.

It was amazing to the brunet how perspectives could change in a wink of an eye. Just a few short hours ago, getting the shipment of arms and busting Sanders' organization had been top priority for him and now, he didn't give a rat's ass about that. Now, it was all about getting Hutch back safely. _Hutch._ His mind kept drifting back to his partner.

It warmed Starsky's heart when he thought about how Hutch had absolved him of his sick participation in Sander's head game. If it wasn't for Hutch, Starsky knew he would even now be beating himself up about it. Instead, Hutch had taken all of that from him somehow. His mind drifted back to their conversation about 'beating their meat' and even now, that memory had the ability to bring a smile to his lips_. Hutch._

'Dammit! ' Starsky thought angrily, 'Better knock it off and stay focused,' he thought. If he didn't get it together, the whole deal might blow sky high and Hutch's life would be forfeited. The thought of losing Hutch chilled the brunet to the bone.

Starsky shut off the water and grabbed the towel, briskly scrubbing it through his riotous curls to get the moisture out. He wiped down his body and wrapped the towel around his lean hips, trudging into the bedroom to dress in another pair of jeans and a dark blue tee shirt. He threw his white briefs on and glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand. It was just a little after six and it was still light out.

Starsky tossed on his jeans and shirt and snapped his holster in place. He quickly checked and loaded his gun. Sanders had ordered his man to give it back to him on his way out of the mansion. "You just might need your weapon detective Starsky, but don't worry, I still have your partner's magnum. Such a large gun! Remember detective, if you fail, I am sure this gun fired at close range will be quite crippling to your friend . . . wouldn't you say?"

The dark haired detective could still hear the sickening sound of Sanders laughter ringing in his ear. "Fuck you asshole" he muttered under his breath. He resolved do whatever it took to get his partner out of this mess. _'Hang on Hutch . . . hang on . . ."_ he thought silently. He holstered his piece angrily, and grabbed his leather jacket, locking the door behind him.

"Say what?"

"Yeah . . . change of plans . . . they nabbed me and Hutch at the docks," Starsky said softly, his voice lowered below the usual din of the bar, "And they got Hutch," he added softly. The dark haired detective lowered his eyes to the amber colored liquid in the glass. Just saying those words out loud filled his heart with anxiety and trepidation. _Hutch._

The skinny black man frowned, feeling the raw pain and worry that was emanating from his curly haired friend. He leaned over the table in the booth, his large, dark eyes were keen and savvy, "What does the big man want?"

Starsky sighed heavily, his eyes still locked on his beer glass, "He wants his shipment . . . wants me to create a diversion so that everything can be loaded easily."

"Dobey know about this?" Huggy asked softly.

Another sigh came from the brunet, "Nope . . . Dobey thinks the shipment's gonna arrive in three days, but Sanders made sure it hits t'night. Wants me to get rid of the small surveillance team we got set up at the docks."

"Aiding and abetting is one serious crime, my friend . . ." Huggy whispered, his dark forehead was creased with worry lines, as he continued to stare across the table at his downcast friend.

Starsky raised his eyes slowly to look at his long time friend, his dark, blue eyes shone with suppressed emotion, "They got Hutch," he whispered again. Those three words said everything that needed to be said. Nothing mattered to Starsky, except Hutch's safe return.

Huggy nodded slowly, his shrewd eyes read the brunet's face, "He hurt?"

Starsky nodded, looking down again at his beer glass, "Yeah . . . they bruised him up a bit and made a hole through his hand, pinned it to a desk . . ." Starsky face darkened, as memories of their ordeal flashed across his mind.

Huggy scrunched up his face, "Ouch!"

"Yeah . . . he needs t'see a doc." The brunet lifted the glass to his lips and washed back the lump in his throat with the cold, foaming beer.

Huggy laid his long, slender hand on the detective's arm, once he put down his glass, "My advice to you is to tell Dobey. You're playing against one mean dude all by your lonesome, the stakes are high and the odds ain't in your favor man, you got too much to lose . . . and I ain't only talkin' 'bout your partner . . . ya dig?"

Starsky looked Huggy in the eye, "They got Hutch, Hug. That's all I care about. Hutch is not expendable. I can't tell Dobey . . . can't risk them hurtin' Hutch anymore than he already is. Sanders' got a lot of friends out there . . . I gotta watch my back, but I'm bringin' Hutch home . . . alive! Everythin' else . . . I don't give a damn about." He glanced at his watch; 8:15 pm. "Gotta go." Starsky said abruptly.

The Bear nodded slowly, seeing the stubborn determination in his friend's eyes. He sighed, "Well . . . I'll get my jacket . . ."

Starsky smiled, loving his friend's caring loyalty, "Uh-uh . . . solo remember? Thanks Hug. If things don't work out t'night, tell Dobey huh? Hutch is gonna need help t'get outta there." Starsky downed the rest of the beer in one gulp, grinned and winked at the lean, black man, "See ya," he said standing, "Oh . . . and put that on my tab will'ya?"

He watched from the dark interior of his car, as the curly haired detective walked around the trunk of his red, flashy vehicle and got into the driver's seat of the Torino that was parked outside of "The Pits." It was almost strange to see the brunet alone without his blond shadow tailing behind him. He wondered silently where Hutch was.

Novak could feel the black hand of hate twist his heart at the sight of the cocky cop. God, how he hated that Jew! His type of people weren't supposed to be in law enforcement and just the fact that this cop was earning more money than him made him red with anger. He seethed silently, watching the red car pull away from the curb. After waiting a minute, he slammed his gear into drive and proceeded to follow the dark haired detective.

Novak thought back to this morning's briefing with Dobey and how Starsky tried to get him trouble with his Captain. "Fuck, it's bad enough I gotta work with a money hungry Jew, but now I have to answer to a fat, black assed nigger." Novak said to himself, hating Starsky even more as he followed the red Torino from a distance. "Wise ass Jew," he muttered under his breath, squeezing the steering wheel tightly, while keeping the red car in his line of vision, making sure he wasn't too close so that he wouldn't be spotted. From the direction the Torino was heading, it wasn't too hard to figure out that they were going towards the docks.

Novak wondered about that. Why would Starsky be going there when it wasn't their shift? And why would Starsky be going there alone without Hutch? Novak smiled to himself. He just knew that stinking Jew was up to no good. He and Lyons had a good laugh when they played the trick with the walkie on Starsky and took off after that Cadillac. Unfortunately, that lead proved to be a dead end and when they returned to the docks, they were surprised to find that their senior officers had shirked their duty and had left their posts. Even after their shift ended and the new team showed up, Starsky and Hutch were still invisible.

As much as he hated Starsky, Novak had to admit to himself that their abrupt departure from their posts surprised him. Lyons was afraid something might have happened to them while they were off chasing the Cadillac, but Novak knew better. He could smell a rat from two hundred yards . . . and if they left their posts, it meant that something was going down.

'_Since it's Starsky, it probably involves some illegal money being passed under the table somewhere and Starsky's right in the middle of it. . . probably hooked himself and Hutch up with Sanders. Jews would do anything to make a quick buck . . . they'd even sell their own mothers,'_ Novak thought bitterly to himself. God he hated Jews, they were worse than the darkies or the slant-eyed Japs! Hutch was stupid to hang around with Starsky for so long . . . didn't he know that eventually he'd start to smell like them, act like them, be like THEM? Novak shuddered at the thought. Hutch was white for crying out loud . . . he was of the superior race . . . what the hell was wrong with him?

Novak pulled his car behind some crates that were stacked close to Pier Twelve and watched as Starsky got out of the Torino and walked over to the surveillance team. He watched as they laughed together and chatted for a while. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion as the new shift started to pack it up and leave. Just what the hell was going on anyway? Did Dobey call off the surveillance team and if he did, why wasn't he informed of the move?

He watched angrily as Starsky lifted his hand casually to the departing cars. "What the fuck is going on?" Novak mumbled to himself. He expected the dark haired detective to go back in his car and drive away, but was surprised to see Starsky lean against the hood of the Torino and glance at his wristwatch. "That Jew is up to something," Novak muttered suspiciously, "What the hell is he hanging around here for?"

Novak looked at his watch, 8:47 pm. He knew Dobey was going to be working late at the station til 9:00 this evening, maybe he ordered the break up of the surveillance team and Starsky was just following orders. "Bullshit!" Novak sneered. He picked up the mic and quickly called dispatch to patch him through to Dobey.

"Dobey," the Captain's gruff voice came through.

"Ah Captain . . . it's Novak. I'm at Pier Twelve."

"What are you doing there?" Dobey demanded, glancing at the clock on his desk, "Your shift's been over for a while now . . ."

"Yeah, well . . .I was wondering if you called off the surveillance team for this evening . . . I just saw Starsky tell the guys on the night shift to leave, and I was wondering if you called it off since you know that the shipment is coming in three days from now . . ."

"Starsky down there too?" Dobey interjected, "No . . . I didn't give any order to cancel the surveillance down there . . . but maybe Starsky knows something . . . he is the senior officer in charge . . ."

"Well, he didn't tell me anything either so I was just won . . ." Novak stopped in mid speech, watching the small barge approaching the pier. He was further surprised to see Starsky walk up to the pier and help tie off the boat, talking briefly to the men who started unloading the cargo. "Damn . . . he's in on it!" Novak said, smiling at the chance to blow the Jew's image to his Captain who obviously favored the blond and brunet partnership.

"What's that? Hello? Novak? What the hell is going on?" Dobey asked anxiously.

"Captain I need a back up right away . . . send a team down here . . . its going down . . . its going down now . . . their unloading the arms . . . and I need some back-up on this one." Novak whispered in his mic.

"Alright . . . don't do anything stupid, wait for back up . . . where's Starsky?" Dobey demanded.

"Hate to disillusion you Captain, but from what I see your "officer" is in on the take." Novak said smugly, unable to hide the sneer in his voice.

"What?" Dobey queried, incredulously.

"I said he's on the take Captain," Novak said, "He's at the barge, helping them unload the arms right now as we speak."

To Be Continued….


	7. Chapter 7

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

**Chapter Seven**

"Where's Hutch?" Dobey asked immediately.

"I don't see him right now, but he's gotta be around somewhere. You know those two clowns are always joined at the hip." Novak said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"You watch your tone when you speak about them, Novak," Dobey warned, "There is still a chain of command here, and those are still your senior officers. Understood?"

"Yes sir." Novak said grudgingly. It grated on his nerves to be taking orders from someone whose descendents were probably slaves. Novak watched Starsky, as he helped to unload the cargo and his eyes squinted in disdain. He could feel the tingle of excitement throughout his whole body, wanting to run up and make the bust by himself, but he knew that would be foolish.

"A team has been already sent out and I'm on my way down there too." Dobey said quietly, "Wait for us Novak, we don't want to blow this one."

"Yes sir," Novak said. He returned the mic to the cradle and sneered, "Fuck you sir," he mumbled, "Don't you tell me what to do nigger!" he growled childishly to the mic, feeling better already. He grinned, "I'll show you Dopey," he mocked, "Your Jew ain't nothing but a two bit hustler."

Starsky raised his arms up to help bring down some of the cargo. He was impatient with the slow, unhurried pace of Sander's men. The dark haired detective looked over his shoulder, and though the waterfront looked quiet and still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. It unnerved him. "Hey . . .hurry it up will ya?" he said to the men on the boat.

One of Sander's men looked over the side, "What's the hurry? You got rid of the cops didn't ya?" he sneered, turning back to wrap more of the armaments with tarp to keep them dry from the slight drizzle that started.

Starsky said nothing, but he looked around again. Aside from the huge stack of crates that lined the docks, everything was clear. It amazed Starsky how easy it had been to get rid of the second surveillance team and he realized how much trust and respect his men had in him. He felt so guilty, playing on their loyalty that way, but they had Hutch, and getting Hutch back alive was more important than anything else. He'd deal with repercussions later.

A large truck approached the docks and pulled to a stop in front of the roped barge. Sanders' men started loading the wrapped arms into the back of the truck. A short time later, Starsky picked up the last of the cargo and walked out to the truck. He was about to hand it to the one of the men standing at the back of the truck when all of a sudden pandemonium hit.

Police cars suddenly swarmed in, surrounding the truck, high beamed lights were flashed upon both the truck and the boat, as men scrambled around to grab their weapons. "Fuck, it's the pigs . . .we've been set up!" one of Sander's men shouted. Starsky grabbed his gun and crouched next to the large tire of the truck, his eyes wild, his heart filled with despair.

"Police . . .freeze and drop your weapons this instant!" Starsky recognized the booming voice of his captain and he groaned silently, "Shit!" he whispered, "Not Dobey." It sickened him that his own captain and friend would see him like this, a cop turned bad guy. A part of him wanted to crawl under a rock somewhere and hide, but he needed to make sure that shipment got to Sanders. Hutch's life depended on it and damn, if he was going to let his partner down.

Men on the boat were scrambling about as they tried to untie the barge and head out to sea. Police boats entered the harbor, blue and red lights lit up the night, "Freeze . .. we have you surrounded," the voice echoed out over the water.

"What the fuck's going on?" Jericho said, as he got out of the truck and crouched next to dark haired cop. "Your partner is so dead when Sander's hears about this," the crook snarled, "You set us up!"

Starsky recognized the man as the one who got away the other day. "I didn't set up nuthin'. Look, get back in the truck and I'll get ya out of this mess. We'll create a diversion. Tell your men to start shooting, but no cop gets hit, ya hear me? Shoot above their heads. When the shooting starts, drive your truck through the line and don't stop. They'll move. You drive outta here like a bat from hell and you get this shipment to Sanders and tell him I'll be there to pick up my partner," Starsky snapped back, checking to see that his gun was loaded, he looked up, noticing that Jericho was just staring at him with his mouth hanging open, "What?" Starsky snapped.

"You're one crazy cop," Jericho said, "You taking all of them out alone?"

"I repeat . . .this is the police! Drop your weapons and come out with your hands in the air." Dobey's voice shouted over the speaker.

Starsky sighed. "You got any guns I can borrow?" Starsky asked.

"You bet!" Jericho said, admiration creeping in his voice, "Man pig, I like your style . . . you fought in 'Nam?"

Starsky didn't even bother to answer, but just grabbed the semi-automatic when Jericho handed it to him. "'What's your name?" Starsky asked, peeking around the tire to count the number of black and whites.

"Jericho, man," Sander's hood said, handing Starsky more bullets. "Maybe I should stay and help you man, we'll be like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid."

Starsky looked at Jericho, his statement making him think of Hutch. They always talked about going out like Butch and Sundance in a blaze of gunfire_. Hutch._ "Just get in the truck Jericho, and start drivin' when you hear me shootin'. Tell the guys in the back of the truck to shoot too, but remember, no cops get hurt. Ya got that?" Starsky said, seeing Jericho silently agreeing with him. "Remember that . . . and tell Hutch . . . tell Hutch I'm comin'"

Jericho nodded and climbed into the cab of the truck, revving the truck's engine up.

"You in the truck, stay down and surrender," Dobey said calmly, "We have you outnumbered and surrounded. Drop your weapons and come out with your hands raised in the air."

Starsky took a deep breath in, then open fired, making sure his shots went just above the head of the cops, who ducked under the barrage of bullets. Starsky ran to stay behind the big wheel of the truck as it took off toward the line of black and white patrol cars. The men in the truck started shooting also, keeping the officers at bay. Starsky used the tire as a shield until he came parallel to the Torino, making a bee-line for his familiar red car.

"What the hell?" Dobey muttered, shocked beyond belief to see his own detective firing at them.

"Hold your fire," Dobey shouted, "It's Starsky!"

The truck came at a break neck speed towards the parked police patrol cars, which opened their line at the last minute to allow the rampaging truck through. Several officers got into their cars and immediately began to give chase, as the truck raced off down the road.

Novak never took his eyes off of the curly haired detective he so despised. Amid the chaos, he watched as Starsky used the semi automatic like a pro, noticing that the brunet's aim was slightly high. Everyone at the station knew that the dark haired detective was a sharp shooter, and so far none of the patrol officers or any of the surveillance team that had doubled back to help had been hit.

In the mayhem following the truck's attempt to run the police cars over, Novak noticed Starsky making his way back to the Torino. "Stinking Jew, " Novak grinned, "Time someone taught you a little lesson in humility," Novak said softly to himself, deliberately aiming his gun at the brunet. At the last moment, as Novak pulled the trigger, Lyons disrupted his aim, pulling his arm down, but the bullet still found its mark in the brunet's side.

Starsky ran swiftly, intending to jump into his car and lead the cops off and away from the truck, when something hot and hard hit him, spinning him with its forceful, jarring impact as he grunted in pain and slammed to the ground. For a second, he stared at the night's sky, disoriented and dazed, until he felt it, the red-hot pain that flared in his lower left side. He gasped, his hand reaching for the wound, feeling the warmth of his own blood as it flowed over his fingers.

"What the fuck are you doing Novak" Lyons said, glaring at his partner. "I saw you try to kill Starsky, you were aiming at his head."

"Shut up Lyons, it's just your word against mine. I was trying to stop him from getting away . . . that' all," Novak said smugly, walking towards the fallen man. Police were all over the place, bringing some of Sanders men who were still on the boat down to the cars, but all Novak saw was the hurt man on the ground, struggling to get up. Novak smiled, "Time to finish what you started, Jew . . ." he whispered under his breath.

Starsky bit back a groan, wanting to curl into the pain that enflamed his side. He gritted his teeth, holding his side, forcing himself to sit up. _Hutch._ He had to get to Hutch. He gasped as the punishing pain took his breath away and his hand clutched at the bleeding wound, pressing his shirt against the ragged opening to stem the flow of blood. His closed his eyes for a moment, enduring the painful pressure, trying to breathe as he rode out the pain, when he suddenly felt someone dragging him to his feet by the collar of his jacket. He groaned, his legs wanting to buckle as he was roughly pulled to his feet and slammed against the side of the Torino.

"I knew you were on the take, you dirty Jews do anything for money," Novak snarled, raising his fist to pound the brunet's face, when his hand was suddenly held in a firm grasp.

"That's enough Novak," Dobey growled, turning angry eyes towards his dark haired detective, who held onto his bleeding side, his body slumped against the red vehicle, chest heaving with each ragged breath drawn. Dobey let go of Novak's hand and turned to Starsky, "What the hell did you do?"

The accusing voice and angry glare from his captain nearly shattered the wounded man, but he valiantly stood straighter, clutching his side, and faced Dobey, "Cap, I know what this looks like," he gasped painfully, his blue eyes beseeching his captain to understand, "But, they got Hutch . . . they're gonna kill him if I didn . . ."

Novak backhanded the curly haired detective, cutting his explanation off with the force of a blow that whipped the brunet's head back, "Shut up you lying son of a bitch!" Novak said, rubbing the back of his hand, "We witnessed your part in all of this . . . you helped them get away with the shipment, you got rid of the surveillance team using your seniority and position, you shot at us using an automatic weapon and we're throwing the book at you for this. You're going down Starsky!"

"Yeah?" Starsky snarled, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his wrist, "And you do that again Novak and you ain't gonna live to see another sunrise . . ."

"Enough," Dobey snapped, his brown eyes flashed with suppressed rage at both of his men. He turned to look at Starsky, his expression softening when he noticed the brunet wincing in pain as another spasm of pain flared in his side, "You need to see a doctor," the captain said to his dark haired detective, concern and worry evident in his voice and eyes.

"Cap, they got Hutch . . . he's hurt . . . I gotta go get . . ." Starsky tried to explain again, but Novak interjected.

"That's bullshit Captain, let me read him his rights and cuff him. He can do his explaining down at the station." Novak argued. "Look Captain, if you don't let me do my job, you're saying that he's above the law!"

Dobey had to look away from the earnest look in Starsky's pain filled blue eyes. He knew in his heart that Starsky was telling the truth; and the fact that Sanders had Hutch as a hostage ate away at the rotund captain. If no one was here, perhaps he would have listened to what Starsky had to say and toss around some ideas on how to get Hutch out of Sanders' grasp unharmed, but the fact of the matter was that he had a lot of his men listening to Novak spewing his mouth off and Novak was right . . . no one was above the law . . .

The dark man sighed, refusing to make eye contact with his curly haired detective. There were days that Dobey just hated this job, and today was one of them. "Read him his rights," he told Lyons, "And take him in."

"With pleasure!" Novak said, as Lyons began the memorandum. Novak yanked Starsky's hands behind his back, slamming the brunet's front against the hood of the Torino. Novak smiled as he heard the soft groan that came from the brunet. He roughly slapped his hands against Starsky's body on the pretense of searching for more weapons, chuckling as he heard the brunet gasp sharply and jolt when he slammed his hand against the detective's wound.

Starsky silently rode out the pain that engulfed his side, breathing heavily through the worst of it, refusing to make any comment when Novak said, "Suck it up asshole, you're lucky my bullet didn't find that thick skull of yours!"

Novak brutally twisted the brunet's hands behind his back, lifting it high up towards his shoulder blades, knowing he was intentionally inflicting more pain on already suffering Jew. That thought made him laugh out loud, as he snapped the cuffs tightly into place, loving every minute of it, wishing he could take Starsky someplace where he could beat the crap out of him, especially now that he was cuffed and hurting.

"Knock it off Novak" Lyons said, "You don't gotta be so rough, Starsky's already wounded." Lyons listened to the ragged breathing of the brunet, knowing he was in excruciating pain, his wound stretched wide as his hands were cuffed high behind his back. Lyons wasn't a fool, he knew what kind of an asshole he was partnered with and it tore him up to see Starsky, a detective he'd always admired, being treated like a criminal.

"Shut up Lyons . . . anyone ever tell you what a sap you are?" Novak growled, pulling Starsky away from the car by the back of his arms, "Shit, I'm sick of your whining. Why don't you take a lesson from this Jew here and shut your fuckin' trap." Novak pushed Starsky ahead of him towards his car, remembering how Starsky and Hutch had laughed at him during the briefing in Dobey's office. Novak grinned smugly; finally he would be the last one laughing!

To Be Continued…


	8. Chapter 8

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

**Chapter Eight**

After being checked at the local hospital and being assured that Starsky's injury was simply a deep flesh wound, he was stitched up, bandaged and led away in a black and white patrol car. Novak wanted the pleasure of taking his nemesis in himself, but Dobey had instructed his officers to bring his finest detective down to the station and to his office. He wanted to get to the bottom of this, but most of all he wanted, no needed to hear it from his detective's mouth first hand. He knew that he had to get Starsky away from Novak for both of their sakes, and he needed to do it fast. He ordered the black and white to pick Starsky up at the hospital for transport, much to Novak's chagrin. Lyon's was grateful that Dobey had intervened, he really couldn't stand to see the way his partner treated the well respected detective.

As the black and white arrived in front of the station, Starsky was helped out of the backseat by a uniformed officer. Novak and Lyon's both approached quickly, Novak not wanting to miss a precious moment of this scene playing out, Lyon's just trying to get him to back off.

"Sure looks different, don't it Starsky?" Novak spewed hatefully. "I mean showing up here as a criminal instead of a city employee kind of makes this building take on a whole new meaning, huh?"

"Fuck off Novak, you don't know shit!" Starsky spewed thinking about the danger his partner was now in because of Novak's obsession with taking down the curly haired brunet. "You have no idea what you're doing, and I hope for your sake, it's not too late." Starsky leaned into the detective, "cause if it is, I'm comin' after you m'self!" Starsky growled as one of the uniformed officers pulled him away, out of Novak's face.

Starsky was taken, in cuffs up to the fifth floor and into the squad room that he entered almost daily as an officer of the law, the law that he just broke. All the detectives present looked up, and there were a couple gasps of shock as Starsky was herded through the crowded room and into Dobey's office, Novak, Lyon's and one uniformed officer joining them, the door slamming closed behind them as all the officers in the room grumbled and exchanged speculative glances.

"Someone just want to tell me what the Sam hell went on out there today?" Dobey's voice bellowed as Starsky stood straight, his posture erect, in front of his Captain's desk.

"It's really pretty simple Captain, Detective Starsky here, was observed aiding and abetting known criminals in a felonious act, he even opened fire on law enforcement agents, there by allowing the criminals to escape with the illegal shipment." Novak orated.

"Shut the hell up Novak, I was there, I saw all that! What I want to know is what the hell you were doing out there Starsky, I know there is more to this, now spill it!" Dobey ordered as Starsky's eyes locked with his superiors.

"Cap, I'm sorry. Hutch and me met with Sanders…" Starsky was quickly cut off.

"You what?!?" Dobey's voice raised an octave as his bloodshot brown eyes bulged even further from his sockets.

"I know, I know Cap, we shouldn't of, but we had no choice if you get my drift, let's just say they were very persuasive…we're working in a lead and figured that this would expedite the investigation…"

Dobey noticed Starsky pulling on his cuffs uncomfortably as he raised his pudgy finger and pointed at the uniformed officer. "Uncuff him." He ordered.

"But Captain, he is a suspect, and a prisoner, he's my collar and as such, I think protocol needs to be followed and he needs to remained restrained until he is booked on charges." Novak offered up in disagreement.

"You wanna talk about protocol Novak, what about you disobeying a senior officers direct order?" Starsky looked over at the insolent officer as his cuffs were removed.

Novak's head snapped up at attention, looking at Dobey. "I have no idea what he's talking about Captain." He said nervously.

"We specifically told you NOT to follow that car away from the docks, you chose to disobey our orders and by doing so, you put both yourselves and Hutch and me in danger. Because of your actions, you left Hutch and I with no back up, allowing them to force us to go with them. Now they've got my partner, and I had to do what they said in order to get him outta there safely!" Starsky fumed as he rubbed his sore wrists. "Captain, I want Detective Novak formally written up for insubordination to a superior officer, interfering with an on going investigation." Starsky's face was red with anger, his lips pursed together.

"Is this true Lyon's?" Dobey asked the, up until now, quiet man.

Lyon's looked at Starsky, getting lost in his searching; pleading eyes, and then he looked over at his partner. He despised his partner, but he still _was _his partner.

"Yes Captain, I'm afraid it is. Novak intentionally disobeyed a direct order. I think that there should be further investigation into my partner's quick reaction in shooting Starsky as well, I think it was completely unnecessary and unwarranted." Lyon's said as he quickly looked away from his partner, feeling disloyal.

"You son of a bitch!" Novak spewed as he looked back at Dobey. "You want to write me up for insubordination, then do it! But that doesn't change the fact that Detective Starsky here, still committed a crime!" He yelled, trying to get his point across.

"Look Cap'n, I really don't have time for this, what he did by pulling me in, may have just cost Hutch his life. I gotta get out of here and try and get him back…" Starsky stated as he leaned over his Captain's desk. "Please, you gotta trust me on this one." He begged.

"Trust you? You expect your Captain to trust you after you just committed a federal offense? Give me a break! That just goes to show how stupid you really are Starsky!" Novak spat, earning him an irritated glare from Dobey.

"Novak, I thought I told you to shut up." Dobey retorted as he returned his attention to Starsky. "I'm gonna make it happen Starsky, I'll get you released, but in return you have to do something for me…"

"Anything." Starsky vowed.

"No more private parties…I want to know everything, where you're going, who you're talking to and what you're next step will be…that will be the only way I can protect you son." Dobey instructed his best officer.

"Deal!" Starsky promised.

"This is bullshit! I'm taking this to IA, you can't let him go after what we witnessed today, not based on his word. We need, I am demanding an investigation!" Novak fired his hatred.

"You take it to whoever you want Novak, but let me make myself perfectly clear…IA may not be so understanding of your disobeying a direct order from a superior, acts like that cost officers, good men, their lives! You read me?" Dobey fumed as Novak stood and headed for Dobey's door, grabbing it and jerking it open just to find two men standing there, one of their hands precariously positioned, about to knock.

Novak stepped aside allowing the men room to enter. The first man, was tall and very slim, his light red, thinning hair combed over his scalp trying to give the illusion of a full head of hair. He reached in his coat pocket, pulling out his ID, offering it to the Captain for inspection.

"I'm Federal Agent Winslow, and this is Federal Agent Bryant." He introduced himself and his partner. "We've been informed of a suspected arms deal that was to take place on your docks in the next couple of days and have been sent to relieve you of this case and handle the investigation ourselves." He continued as Dobey looked over at Starsky who was looking at him bewildered. "So imagine our surprise when we just met with your chief and he informed us that the deal had already taken place and that the suspects had managed to get away with the shipment…would you care to explain that to us Captain?"

"I'll tell you exactly how it happened," Novak spewed as Starsky rolled his eyes, "I witnessed this detective here taking part in the illegal activity and assisting the suspects in their getaway!" He shouted as he pointed to the curly haired brunet. "Now his Captain here wants to let him walk away and turn his head acting like nothing ever happened. Maybe you can do something to stop this?"

Winslow looked at the angry detective and then back to the rotund black man behind the desk. "Is this true Captain?"

"Novak, sit down and shut up." Dobey ordered his detective. "Yes it's true, but there is more to this case then just that." He explained. "Detective Starsky and his partner were taken prisoner by the men responsible for the arms shipment thanks to Detective Novak's lack of ability to follow direct orders from a superior officer." Dobey shot an angry glare at Novak and then looked back to Winslow and Bryant. "Detective Starsky here was putting his own life on the line trying to save the life of his partner who is now being held hostage by the suspects. A risky move on Detective Starsky's part, made even riskier by the irresponsible actions of Detective Novak. Detective Starsky here has bravely agreed to attempt to go back in to retrieve not only the missing arms shipment, but his partner as well, acting under my direct supervision, of course." Dobey orated confidently.

"That is mighty courageous of you Sergeant." Winslow tipped his head in admiration at Starsky as Novak's face turned red in anger. "Captain, I am sure that you will understand our department's insistence on being involved in this case. We will be happy to work side by side with you and your officers, but we really must be kept apprised of all the developments and all orders and decisions must be cleared with either Agent Bryant or myself before execution. Is that understood?"

"Understood, you have my department's full cooperation." Dobey agreed as he looked up at Starsky who was standing at attention before his superiors. "Let's get down to business and discuss our next move." Dobey continued before looking over at Lyons and Novak, "You've both been taken off this case, and Novak you'll be on desk duty pending a full investigation into Detective Starsky's injury and your insubordination is completed." He said as Starsky couldn't help but allow the corner of his mouth to curl up in an approving smile.

"Yes sir." Lyons respectfully answered as he moved towards the door.

"That's bullshit!" Novak protested as Lyons pulled him away from his captain's desk.

"Dismissed!" Dobey bellowed as Novak inhaled and exhaled angrily, his eyes darting back and forth around the room, searching for someone's support, but finding everyone ignoring him. He jerked his arm out of his partner's grasp as he approached Starsky, standing toe to toe with him; both of their chests touching in a masculine stand off.

"I'm not finished with you Starsky! You'll be hearing from me again, I promise!" He spat as his eyes bulged out of their sockets.

"Looking forward to it." Starsky almost whispered, staying eerily calm.

With that both Lyons and Novak left Dobey's office, leaving them to discuss their next move on the case ahead of them.

It was a little over an hour and a half before everyone filed out of Dobey's office, first the Federal Agents, then Dobey, followed closely by a more upbeat Starsky, he was going to go in and get his partner back, he knew he would succeed, he had to. Novak sat at his desk, thumbing through files and case reports, checking them for errors and doing the basic 'desk' job that his superior officer had ordered him to do. Just as Starsky passed behind his chair Novak spoke, not being able to control his hatred or racist flame that burned inside him.

"Fucking no good Jew…" He let escape his lips as he instantly felt Starsky's hot breath on his neck.

"If I ever hear those words come out of your mouth again, they'll be your last." Starsky hissed in his ear as he looked up to see Dobey's concerned gaze locked on the pair, straightening back up and patting Novak's shoulder. "By the way Novak, once you're finished with those reports there's several more on my desk." He taunted as he grabbed his jacket, flung it over his shoulder and left the squad room with Dobey right on his heals.

To Be Continued…


	9. Chapter 9

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

CHAPTER NINE 

"Welcome back Detective Starsky," Sanders greeted, smiling as the brunet was escorted into his office, noticing the dried blood on his light blue tee shirt. "I must thank you for keeping your promise so . . . valiantly. We got the shipment safely in and we couldn't shut Jericho up from enthusiastically singing your praises. He told us that you faced your fellow police officers single handedly. Very impressive detective, if I do say so myself."

"Where's my partner," Starsky interjected. Although his side throbbed mercilessly, he had refused to take any painkillers, knowing he would need to be fully in charge of his faculties, especially when dealing with Sanders. He glared at the smug man who sat behind his huge desk, smoking another cigar, choosing to stand although a seat had been offered to him. He was tired and he wanted to see Hutch . . . he needed to know that his partner was all right and he meant to take Hutch away from here, so that Sanders couldn't use the blond as leverage anymore.

The thought that he would have to find a way to gain the good graces of Sanders and infiltrate his organization worried him. He would be going under alone; a solitary soldier in this charade the feds wanted him to play out to redeem not only Hutch, but his own reputation as well.

"Please sit down Detective Starsky," Sanders said, puffing on the end of the cigar, "I want to talk to you about a . . . proposition I have."

"Take me to Hutch!" Starsky demanded, growing impatient with the Sanders' avoidance and manipulations, "The deal was I get you the shipment, and you give me my partner. I'm here to collect and I want him now!"

"But of course detective, I always keep my word . . . much like yourself I see. I think that is why you and I understand each other . . . after all; we seem to have the same code of ethics. You will get to see your partner shortly, but first we need to talk . . . please sit down."

"I prefer to stand, Sanders," Starsky replied coolly, eyeing the crime boss who suddenly chuckled.

"I can see why my man, Jericho, so admires you detective. I think that after this evening's fiasco, your police buddies will not want you back . . . you shooting at them and all, warrants you a criminal just like me." Sanders laughed. "Amazing isn't it detective, that in a blink of an eye, you went from being one of the department's finest to being the department's abomination. You must care for your partner very much to risk and sacrifice everything that you've strived for. Now you are a fugitive, wanted by the very men you led." Sanders blew a puff of smoke across the desk at the curly haired detective and laughed, "Oh the irony of it all . . . it nearly kills me!"

"You done?" Starsky snapped, "I wanna see Hutch."

"What's the rush detective? I can assure you, your partner is still alive, although . . . he might need some medical attention soon. It seems he's having difficulty breathing for some reason . . . hmmm . . . it could be because of a fractured rib perhaps . . . I must apologize for my men being such brutes earlier . . . they really need to learn better manners. In any case, you will see Hutchinson in a bit, after you agree to the deal I am about to offer you."

At Starsky's silence, Sanders continued, "The way I see it, the cops are after you now. You have no choice, but to go into hiding . . . a wanted man on the streets with nowhere to go, you'd have to change your identity, leave all of your friends and family behind, including your partner. It's a shame really . . . you, sacrificing your job, your reputation for your partner's life, and then not being able to even be with him . . . because now you'll on the opposite sides of the law."

Sanders paused for a dramatic effect, but the brunet gave no indication that he was worried about the dismal future that Sanders painted with his words. Sanders sighed, looking at the tough cop who continued to glare defiantly at him. There was something very dangerous, but very likeable about the stubborn brunet who stood arrogantly before him.

"I've decided to offer you a place of refuge, Detective Starsky . . . here within my organization. To me, you have proven yourself to be worthy of my employ. I recognize that you are a man who has leadership ability and as such, I am willing to put you in a place of power and prestige. You will be right under Jenkins, whom you've met previously. Under you, will be assigned many men who will answer to you. You will be paid a substantial amount of money for the work you do for me, much more than that meager amount that you get from your department, I can assure you. You are a smart man. I trust you will accept my generous offer, Detective Starsky. The way I see it, you really have no other choice in this matter. . .

Starsky looked down at the ground, attempting to appear like he was weighing his options. He looked up at the cigar smoking man, his stormy blue eyes glared in defiance, "Lemme see Hutch first. If he needs medical attention, I want to be the one to take him to the hospital . . . to make sure that he's getting the proper care that he needs. Once he's settled there, I'll come back and let you know what I've decided." Starsky said calmly. Though his face remained neutral, his heart began to beat rapidly with his mounting excitement. This job was too easy . . . Sanders was offering him a way into his organization . . . a way to go under, but first he needed to see that Hutch was safely out of the way.

"One of my men will have to accompany you to the hospital," Sanders' said pleasantly, "Not that we don't trust you course . . ."

"Of course!" Starsky said sarcastically, hating the idea that he wouldn't be alone with Hutch.

"Alright, you may see your partner now, on one condition . . . that you tell me your answer, but let me assure you detective, there really will be no need to take your partner to the hospital if your answer is a negative one." Sanders grinned.

Starsky looked down, knowing all eyes were on him. This was the 'in' he needed . . . a perfect ruse for his undercover work. It seemed almost too easy. He would have to tell Hutch so that his partner wouldn't make it more difficult when it came to separating.

Starsky raised stormy eyes to Sanders' smug face, wanting nothing more than to punch it to smithereens. "Hutch goes free?" he asked quietly.

"That's right," Gary Sanders said, "He'll probably tell your department that you've gone 'Judas' on all of them, but they'd find out sooner or later anyway."

Starsky grinned then, eyes sparkling dangerously, "Like you said earlier, I'm a smart man . . . I know a good offer when I hear one . . . was getting tired of being a cop anyway . . . too many rules."

Sanders' laughed and stuck out his hand, which the brunet shook, "Welcome aboard, I can assure you, that you won't regret your decision to join us." He then looked up at one of his men, "Take him to his 'former' partner now . . . I wouldn't want our new hire to think I wasn't a man of my word!"

……………………..

Hutch sat slumped in the corner of the small room. A part of him was anxious and worried about Starsky, knowing his partner was jeopardizing the whole operation just to save his life, and yet, it was becoming increasingly difficult to think. His mind kept fogging, and he drifted in and out of consciousness. He knew there was a possibility that his ribs were busted because he was having trouble breathing and his hand looked infected. No matter how much pressure he applied, blood and now, putrid smelling puss, kept oozing out of the deep wound. He shivered uncontrollably, feeling chilled despite the heat in his hand and face.

His mind feverishly registered that the door was being opened and he attempted to sit up straighter, not wanting to show any sign of weakness to those scums who held him. His blurry, pale blue eyes widened with surprise to see Starsky walking in, followed closely by another man.

"Fuck!" Starsky snapped, seeing the deplorable condition that his partner was in. He quickly knelt next to the blond, ignoring his own pain that flared up in his side from the sudden movement. Starsky put his hand on his partner's neck and brow, feeling the raging heat that emanated from the weakened blond. The brunet turned to Sander's man, "Shit, couldn't any of you morons see that he has a fever?" At the man's blank expression, Starsky snarled, "Get out, you can wait outside, and close the door while you're at it."

The man acknowledged the brunet's demands, knowing that the detective might soon be his own immediate boss since he just accepted Sanders' proposal, "Okay, but Mr. Sanders said you only have a few minutes." Once the door clicked shut, Starsky sat on the floor next to his hurting partner and pulled him into his arms.

"Hey Blondie . . . 'm back." Starsky said, stroking his partner's neck, feeling the feverish heat that rampaged throughout the blond's body, "Gonna get you outta here pal . . . take you to a doctor, so that they can fix that hand of yours." Starsky lifted the punctured hand, already smelling the infection from the oozing, thick yellow puss that leaked from the deep hole in Hutch's hand.

"Starsk?" Hutch gasped, feeling safe and secure in his partner's embrace, "What happened?" He felt the niggling fear that something was wrong, something his partner was hiding from him, "Tell me . . . everything that went down."

"Gonna get you to a hospital first, then we'll talk," Starsky said gently, "Right now, you got a blazin' fever . . . "

"Yeah?" Hutch said weakly, smiling drowsily, "That why I see two of you?"

Starsky snorted, grabbing some of the extra towels he had shredded earlier. He wiped down his partner's feverish brow, turning to look at Hutch's damaged hand, frowning with concern over his partner's declining condition, "Yeah . . . you're lucky . . . you know how many women would kill to see two of me huh?"

Hutch grinned, watching his partner through slotted eyes, as he struggled to get it together, intuitively knowing there was something dreadfully wrong, something his partner was hiding from him. The blond sat up straighter, which helped his breathing somewhat. He gritted his teeth to bite back the moan that almost slipped out, gasping softly instead, much to the concern of the brunet.

"Okay . . . tell me . . ." Hutch demanded softly, "What happened out there . . . at the docks?"

Starsky sighed heavily, trying not to wince, as Hutch leaned heavily into his side. The brunet grinned sheepishly, noticing that the blond watched his every move.

"Well?" Hutch said finally, when the brunet remained silent, "What happened last night?"

Starsky shrugged, then said, "Got rid of the surveillance team with no trouble, then the barge came and we started unloading the arms into the truck that brought it here." Starsky said matter of factly.

"And then?" Hutch said, eyeing his partner carefully, finally noticing the dried blood on his partner shirt and the way Starsky was favoring his side, although the brunet tried to be inconspicuous about it.

"And then all hell broke loose," Starsky said slowly, "Dobey had a line of black and whites that tried to pen us in, had to use an automatic to get the truck out."

"What? You fired at Dobey?" Hutch asked incredulously, "What were you thinking?"

"I had to get the truck outta there . . . wasn't about t'let you down buddy," Starsky said softly, his words melting the blond's worried heart. For a minute they sat in silence, Hutch finally turned a little to look the brunet in the eye.

"You hurt?" he asked, his voice was soft and concerned, "Lemme see your side . . ."

"'m fine Hutch," Starsky said, "Already seen a doctor for it, we need to get ya outta here so you can see a doc too."

"What happened?" Hutch asked, "How'd you get hurt?" At the brunet's stubborn silence, the blond made a logical guess, "Bullet wound?"

Starsky sighed, "Jus' a graze Blondie, nuthin' to write home about . . . it's been cleaned, stitched and bandaged by a doctor, now we need to get you looked at by one too."

"Yeah?" Hutch said, leaning his weary head back against the wall, "So is Sanders' gonna just let us both waltz outta here? Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"He's gonna let you go," Starsky said, "We're gonna take you to the hospital in a few minutes. It's all been arranged."

Hutch thought about what Starsky said. He slowly lifted his head to stare at his partner with the dawning realization that his partner had excluded himself from the scenario he just shared. "He's gonna let _**me**_ go? What about you? And who is 'we'? What's going on Starsk?"

Starsky sighed, "Yes, he's gonna let _**you**_ go and he wants one of his men with us when I take you to the hospital."

"And?" Hutch said, after a moment's silence, "What about you?"

"I'm coming back here with his man after we drop you off at the hospital . . ." Starsky said gently, knowing his partner would object.

"No way am I gonna leave you here Starsky," Hutch argued, sitting up quickly, only to gasp in pain at the jolting movement, "He's not using us anymore."

Starsky eased the big blond back, "Take it easy buddy . . . ya got no choice in this matter pal," Starsky said softly, lowering his voice so that the man standing outside the door wouldn't be able to hear their conversation, "Listen to me Hutch . . . the Feds are in on this case now, I've been assigned to go under to bust Sanders' and his organization. The Feds want those arms retrieved." Starsky sighed again, feeling the burden of the job he'd be undertaking alone, "After what I just did to help Sanders' get his shipment, he offered me a position here in his organization . . . I'm in."

"Not alone you're not!" Hutch whispered angrily, feeling suddenly tense and scared for his dark haired partner. "Is Dobey crazy? It's like he's sending you to your own execution!"

Starsky sighed, "Got no choice partner . . . it was either this, or the slammer."

All conversation stopped when the door suddenly opened, admitting Sanders, Jenkins and Jericho.

"Well Detective Hutchinson, it's nice to see you conscious for a change . . . I take it Starsky told you that you're going to the hospital and that he is now in my employ?"

Hutch glared at the crime boss and refused to say anything, turning instead to stare into those familiar cobalt eyes of his partner, who in turn glared at up at Sanders.

"I told 'im," Starsky said, helping Hutch to his feet, "And I take it that we're leaving now?"

"Yes, my men will take Detective Hutchinson, but I am afraid that you will have stay back so that I can get you settled in your new environment . . . go over your new job description and my expectations . . . " Sanders said smiling.

Starsky turned to look at Sanders, "What? You promised me that I could take Hutch to the hospital with one of your men in tow . . . "

"Yes, but that was before you worked for me . . . now that I am your boss, I think your loyalties should be with me first." Sanders sneered, obviously testing the curly haired man.

"Is this another one of your head games Sanders?" Hutch snapped, aware that his partner was in a precarious situation. If he was to make any headway in his undercover work, Starsky needed Sanders to trust him.

Starsky paused, debating if he should let Hutch go by himself, knowing Sanders was testing the waters, seeing where his loyalties stood. His cop's sense was screaming out that he be obedient and stay back and yet, what if they snuffed Hutch along the way? Fuck the Feds and this job . . . his first loyalty was to Hutch and he would see his partner to safety even if it jeopardized his position in Sanders' organization.

"Look Mr. Sanders," Starsky said politely, though it killed him to show the older man any respect, "One of the reasons I agreed to sign on with ya, is because you and I seem like men who are cut from the same cloth. You seemed to be a man who keeps his word, or at least I thought you did, and that impressed me because a man's word is everything," Starsky paused, letting his words sink in, "Maybe I read you wrong . . . and if that's the case, then I'll take my chances out on the streets, but nothing . . . nothing is gonna stop me from goin' with Hutch . . . not you, or any of your goons . . ."

Starsky quickly drew his gun from his holster and pointed it at Sanders' head. It had surprised the dark haired cop that Sanders' men didn't remove his weapon when he first entered the mansion, but after the crime boss' offer of employment, the reason why became clear. He thanked God that he still had his piece . . . especially at this particular moment!

"You tell your boys to put away their toys," Starsky said slowly, gritting his teeth to keep himself from gasping in pain. Yanking the gun from his holster had aggravated his wound and the brunet could feel the warm trickle of blood, as it seeped through his bandages.

Gary Sanders calmly raised his hands in a placating manner, waving his hands to his men to put their weapons away. "Now, now Starsky, let's not get upset . . . I think I was just being too over eager in trying to welcome you into my organization. I **am** a man of my word, as are you. I think you are jumping to hasty conclusions here. If going with Hutchinson is that important, then you may take him to the hospital and Jericho will escort you, but the minute you return, I want to discuss some business with you."

"Alright," Starsky said calmly, "When I get back, we'll talk, but Hutch needs a doctor now."

Sanders nodded and smiled, "Of course . . . Jericho, take the Cadillac and drive these men to the hospital. I'll see you later Mr. Starsky . . . "

……………………………….

During whole ride to the hospital, Jericho talked non-stop, using his hands to paint a picture of the brunet's bravery as he stood up against the "the pigs."

"Man, you should'a seen 'im; he handled that automatic like a pro . . . had the pigs ducking for cover. I told him I would stay with him and we could be Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, but he wouldn't hear of it. He helped me get the truck behind the lines by firing at his own team. I felt bad about leaving him there . . . but, he made it, jus' like I knew he would." Jericho laughed, admiration shining in his beady eyes as he looked at the brunet in the rear view mirror.

"Jus' keep your eyes on the road Jericho," Starksy said, wincing as the animated driver took a sharp turn, "Hutch ain't interested in hearing all of this crap."

"Crap? Are you kiddin' man . . ." Starsky tuned out the man's monologue as he launched into another descriptive narrative on how he made his great escape with the truck while the cops ate his dust. The brunet looked over at his blond partner, who sat slumped against the door and was surprised to see his pale blue eyes fixed on his face.

"You're bleeding," Hutch whispered, concern and worry filling his eyes, as it locked on the spot of wet blood that seeped thru his partner's tee shirt, "You know that don't you?"

"'M fine Hutch," Starsky said softly, moving his hand to cover his side, as Jericho continued to spew out information loudly to his captive audience in the back seat. Starsky smiled reassuringly at Hutch and softly said, "Just yanked a bit too hard . . . must've irritated the stitches."

For a minute they sat quietly listening to the driver rambling on and on, both men thinking about the dangers of the assignment. Starsky looked at Hutch when he felt the blond squeeze his shoulder.

"You don't gotta do this buddy . . . come with me and we'll talk to Dobey. You had no choice Starsk, about what went down last night. The Feds can find another guy to do their dirty work . . . someone like Novak maybe." Both detectives grinned at that last statement.

Starsky sighed, "I'm in already Hutch, if another guy went under, it would take us that much longer to crack this case. Sanders trusts me for some reason . . . maybe because of him." Starsky nodded to Jericho who was explaining to no one in particular about how he had informed Mr. Sanders of Starsky's bravery at the docks.

"The way I see it," Starsky continued in a low voice, "I just need to find out about the next arms shipment and let the Feds know about it. It'll just be a quick in and out. I give them the info, they get the goods and the bad guys, and I'm in the clear . . . piece of cake!" The brunet gave his partner his best lopsided grin to reassure the worried blond.

Starsky patted his friend's knee, "Jus' let Dobey know I'm "in" 'kay?" The curly haired detective looked through his side window, as they entered into the parking area for the Emergency ward, "We're here Blintz . . ."

"I don't like any of this," Hutch whispered, "You're hurt. You're in no shape to be doing this . . . alone!"

Starsky smiled and gently squeezed Hutch's knee, "I ain't alone . . . remember? I got you . . . me and thee as always . . ." The brunet gave a quick wink to his partner and stepped out of the car, his hand still clutching his side, as Jericho quickly opened the door.

To be continued


	10. Chapter 10

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

CHAPTER TEN 

Starsky had gotten Hutch all checked in with the emergency room nurse while he was taken in the back and tended to. He had been taken for x-rays of his ribs as well as his hand. Starsky returned the paperwork to the nurse behind the counter before turning to see Jericho approaching him.

"Okay Curly, mission accomplished. I just called Sanders and he wants us back, now." Jericho informed the anxious brunet.

"But what about Hutch, I need to wait an' see if he's okay…" Starsky protested.

"Well that ain't gonna happen my friend. Sanders said his deal was to allow you to bring him here, not sit and hold his hand. He wants you and I back, and he wants us there in 20 minutes, which barely gives us enough time. Let's move." Jericho instructed, leaving no room for argument.

Starsky looked at the nurse, flipping his fingers at the notepad she held in her hand. "Gimme that." He commanded as he took it and the pen she held, scribbling down a quick note and handing it to the nurse. "Make sure Detective Hutchinson gets this, wouldya?" He pled as he handed the pad back to her and she agreed. "Thanks." He looked back at Jericho, "Let's go."

With that both men walked side by side out of the hospital and back to Jericho's vehicle, heading back to Sanders' house. Starsky allowed the slight flutter of nerves enter his body as he realized what he was about to do, go in without the Blintz. They hated going solo, but sometimes there was no choice, _at least his partner was safe and getting the medical attention he needed._ Starsky thought to himself as they rode back in silence, a new kind of nervous energy infiltrating his body.

oooOOOooo

Once they had arrived back at the house in just 19 minutes and 45 seconds, Jericho led Starsky in the front door and through the foyer. The house was large and impressive, an entire marble entrance way that led to a cast staircase that wound its way up and over a large loft, several doors against the far wall leading to private rooms. Jericho stopped the brunet in the entrance way as he waited for someone to receive them. Starsky felt a hint of doubt as he looked around, taking everything in, he hoped he had not made a huge mistake by agreeing to go inside, without his partner to watch his back, but he really felt he had little choice. He almost had a dire feeling like something was terribly wrong, he chalked that up to not having his other half with him, and he really wished he was. He also knew that this was the only way to crack the case and clear his name.

His hand instinctively wrapped around his wounded side as he felt the ebbing moisure that had soaked through his bandage. He hissed through his teeth as he tried to turn at the waist, testing his mobility.

Sanders greeted his guests promptly, the smile that stretched across his face, showing his delight to all.

"Glad to see you decided to come back Mr. Starsky, may I say that was a wise decision." He noted. "I didn't want to have to make you or your partner pay for not keeping your word." He waved his hand cordially in front of him, "Allow me to show you around."

The three of them headed up the tall winding staircase as two people had exited the third door, Starsky was able to grab a quick glance inside the room that was filled with tables and several workers, piles of white powder covering the countertops as scales and baggies filled the rest of the space.

"Coke?" Starsky speculated as Sanders chuckled.

"Well I certainly hope so, for my supplier's sake. I buy pure and cut my shipment with either baking soda or mannitol, nearly doubling my profit." He explained. "That makes good business sense if you ask me…" Sanders explained as Jericho snorted in agreement and the trio continued down the open hall way that overlooked the foyer. They continued on with their tour of his mansion before Slingby approached, whispering into Sander's ear as the older white-haired man raised his eyebrow and then looked at Starsky.

"It seems I have an urgent call to take, please forgive me, Jericho take him to his room and make sure he's comfortable would you?" Sanders instructed as he quickly disappeared with his colleague.

Starsky was escorted to the back part of the house by Jericho as Sanders and Slingsby disappeared.

Sanders entered his lavish office and took his seat in the high back leather chair as he picked up his phone.

"Sanders here?" He addressed the caller as he waited for a response.

"Who is this?...I see…What can I do for you?..." He paused as he listened intently. "You mean David Starsky?...How do you know he's working both sides?...I see…thank you for the information…" Sanders finished the call and hung up the phone.

He raised his head and looked at Slingsby. "Trouble?" Slingsby asked.

"Maybe, we'll have to wait and see. I still want to give this cop a chance, but I want him watched very closely, one false move and I want you to waste him, you hear me?" Sanders ordered.

oooOOOooo

Back at the station, Lyons stood angrily behind his partner as Novak hung up the phone and turned around, shocked to see his partner standing so close.

"What the hell did you just do? You ratted out Starsky?" Lyons spewed, his face turning red.

"It's not what it looks like." Novak stuttered. "Just relax, you'll see, its all part of the plan. Don't worry." Novak reached up and playfully slapped his partner's face. "Anyone ever tell you, you worry too much kid?" Novak said as he left the immediate area, heading for the locker room.

oooOOOooo

Hutch had been poked, prodded, stitched and bandaged. It was found that he had one broken rib, but the injury to his hand had only injured the soft tissue causing a nasty infection to rise up and begin to fester quickly. They had given him a broad spectrum antibiotic intravenously, along with a prescription to go. He had received some mild pain killers, mild by his request, not the doctors.

A nurse walked in with his discharge instructions, approaching the tall blond as she went over them methodically.

"Take all your antibiotics as instructed, do not skip a dose, finish the whole regiment, pain medication to be taken as needed, you need to get lots of rest and try to limit your mobility for the next 5-7 days." She flipped through the pages on her clipboard as she noticed the note that Starsky had given her to relay to Hutch. "Oh yeah, and your friend that brought you in wanted me to give you this." She handed him the note.

Hutch's brow furrowed as he read the note:

_Don't worry about me, get better. Had to run, duty calls…get some rest, I'll be back in no time…me and thee._

_Starsk_

Hutch's face contorted in worry, "When did he leave? How long ago? Did he say where he was going?' Hutch riddled off the questions as the nurse stood there wide-eyed.

He did his best to ease himself off of the table, gasping by the movement when his feet hit the floor. He paused briefly as he allowed the stabbing pain shoot through his chest. He inhaled sharply.

"Could you call me a cab, I need to go to Bay City Police Station, Metro division, and then get Captain Harold Dobey on the phone for me, could you do that?" Hutch's icy blue eyes searched for help in Nurse Devaroe's face. "Please?" He pled as she sighed and nodded in agreement, rushing from the room to carry out her instructions.

'_What the hell are you thinking. Buddy?_' Hutch asked himself as he looked up, saying a small prayer and making a big wish all at the same time.

oooOOOooo

Starsky stayed in his room and waited patiently for his next contact with Sanders. Before long the door opened and Sanders and Sasha entered the room. Starsky immediately tensed up.

"What the hell is she doing here?" He asked, remembering their last meeting.

"Relax Detective; it's not what you think." Sanders informed him as Sasha swaggered up to a small table sporting a desk chair. She pulled out a small black velvet satchel as she sat at the desk, emptying its contents onto the table.

"Would you like some sugar, sugar?" Sasha asked Starsky as she riffled through the items in front of her. She took a baggie full of white powder in her left hand and a razor blade in her right. Opening the sealed bag she dumped a sizeable amount onto the mirror that Starsky had just now noticed on the table top. "Mr. Sanders here has nothing but the best." She winked at the older man as Starsky waived her off, disgusted with her mere presence. She then returned her attention to the task at hand, the pile of cocaine that sat in a mound in front of her.

Methodically and quite adeptly she continued to chop and serve up a large, think line that spanned the entire length of the 10 inch mirror. Sanders watched her approvingly as he then turned his attention to Starsky.

"I just wanted to let you know Mr. Starsky that the shipment that we will require your assistance with, should be arriving within the next couple of days. Exact date and time will be to follow, until then you will be expected to remain here and enjoy my hospitality." He said as he waved his hand towards Sasha.

Sasha held a metal tube in one hand as she tipped her head towards the mirror on the table. "You be careful sweetheart, that shit's as pure as it comes." Sanders warned the girl seconds before she tipped her head, placing the straw up her left nostril and inhaling deeply, snorting the entire length of the line in one swift movement.

Sanders shook his head in disbelief as he watched her ingest the whole thing. "You're one crazy broad." He smirked as Sasha smiled and wiped the excess powder from her nose.

"Crazy isn't the word for it." Starsky mocked sarcastically. "It's called stupid." He snapped as he returned his attention to Sanders. "Now where's the shipment taking place?"

"In a safe place." Sanders answered evasively.

"How many men we gonna have there?" Starsky asked.

"Enough." Hi answer was short and to the point.

"Whatsa matter, don't you trust me?" The brunet pretended to be hurt.

"You, my friend, are on the need to know basis, I'll tell you what I think you 'need to know'." Sanders retorted quickly causing Starsky to be filled with an uneasy feeling about this whole situation.

Starsky couldn't help but notice Sasha's increasing movements out of the corner of his eyes. He looked over at her and saw her face pale and the glistening sheen that was present across her brow concerned him.

"You okay?" he was genuinely worried.

She simply nodded nervously as he read her body language, her hand on her chest as Sanders continued to talk.

"Now Mr. Starsky, we will be taking you to your room, I'm sure you will find everything you need there." Sanders appeared oblivious to Sasha's growing panic.

Starsky's gaze traveled from Sasha to Sanders and back again. "If you need anything else, my staff will be more than willing to help, with in reason, that is." He continued as Sasha tapped him on the knee, taking his attention from the brunet.

"What is it Sasha, can't you see I'm busy here?" Sanders answered aggravated.

"I…I…I'm not feeling so good…" She said in between gasps.

"You'll be fine, you just did too much again…I've warned you about that before…it'll pass." He dismissed her quickly as he looked back at Starsky.

"As I was saying, my men will be taking you to your room shortly…"

"Mr. Sanders, please, this is…is…different." Sasha pled for attention.

Starsky's eyes grew wide with concern as he stood and moved towards her. "I think she means it Sanders, something's wrong." Starsky rushed to her side as he knelt next to her, his side burning in pain as he once again pulled against his stitches.

"It's okay, just relax…" He reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand as he instantly felt the cold clamminess of her skin against his. "Just breathe, its okay…" He said with more intent. "Call an ambulance Sanders." Starsky shouted.

"You've got to be kidding…you want me to call an ambulance…" Sanders literally laughed as he picked up the phone and dialed a three digit extension. "Get Jericho and Slinsgby in her fast. Sasha OD'd again!"

Starsky struggled to get Sasha off of the chair and sitting on the ground, gently helping her lay back, "It's okay, shhh, its okay…just keep breathing okay?" He encouraged her as her eyes grew wide in fear and her breathing became more labored.

"H…h…elp me…" She gasped as a tear rolled out of the corner of her eye and down her cheek. "P…please…God…"

"God Damn it Sasha, I warned you about doin' that much, I told you it was pure shit!" Sanders chastised the girl as her fear rose and she reached out wildly, looking for someone to touch, Starsky taking her hand and holding it tightly.

"Sasha, you gotta relax, breath slowly…come on you can do this, try an' relax." Starsky instructed her as he watched her slip away.

Her breaths started to come in short, quick pants as they became fewer and father between.

Starsky looked over his shoulder at Sanders as he pursed his lips together. "If you don't call an ambulance, she's gonna die. I think she's havin' a heart attack." Starsky warned the crime boss.

Sanders looked at Starsky, a cold icy stare glazing over his eyes as he coolly said. "So be it…" And he turned on his heels and walked out of the room.

Starsky's eyes searched the room for help, for some type of assistance. "Sanders!" He screamed at the top of his lungs as he looked down into Sasha's slowly fading gaze. He leapt towards the phone picking up the receiver and pressing the Operator button, only to get a busy signal, he tried dialing the station directly, only to get the same response. The phone was obviously rigged not to allow outside calls. He crawled back to her side as she looked into his eyes, aware of her fate, as her eyes fluttered.

"M' sorry…" She whispered as her eyes finally closed for the last time.

Starsky reached down, looking for a pulse with his fingers against her throat, finding none. He immediately started CPR and mouth to mouth, even though he knew his attempts would be futile without medical attention. The room seemed to swim in and out of focus around him as he fought, alone, to save her life.

To Be Continued…


	11. Chapter 11

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

**Chapter Eleven**

After about 30 minutes the door to the room opened, Starsky was dripping with sweat, exhausted from his futile attempts to keep Sasha alive. He sat next to her lifeless form as Jericho and Jenkins, who he hadn't seen since his arrival, entered the room. The smirk on Jenkins face sickened the brunet as Jericho seemed a bit more subdued.

"You done makin' out with her detective?" Jenkins quipped as Starsky felt the bile threatening to rise in the back of his throat.

"How could you guys do nuthin' to try an' help her? You didn't even try." Starsky said solemnly as he sat there, his shoulders slumped forward as he felt dejected.

Jericho knelt beside her, taking both of her arms and gently crossing them across her chest respectively. "Just exactly what did you want us to do? Call your local police station and report the OD when this house is full of illegal weapons and activity? She knew that we could do anything. It's her own damn fault." Jericho spoke as if he was trying to convince himself not to feel sorry for her.

"That's right, worse part is, Mr. Sanders is going to have to find someone as 'talented' as she was to take her place satisfying all of his clients, and that won't be easy." Jenkins laughed. "It requires hours and hours of interviewing and training…poor guy, I bet it'll take a lot outta him!" Jenkins burst out laughing at his own joke as Jericho couldn't find a smile to save his life.

Starsky fumed in disgust at these two uncaring and callous men as they were preparing to take Sasha's body out of the room. He lunged at Jenkins as he immediately felt the skin along his side rip open, the sensation of each stitch being pulled out, one by one. He yelled out as he flew through the air, part in anger and part in pain as he hit Jenkins around the chest, toppling both men to the ground. He reached back with his right arm, letting it snap forward sharply connecting with the man's left cheek bone, the feeling bringing a sense of momentary satisfaction to him.

Jericho was on Starsky before he could deliver a second punch, pulling him back, off of Jenkins and throwing him onto his backside against the ground. With lightening like speed, Jenkins recovered, got up, and walked over to Starsky, who stared up at the man defiantly. He pulled back his leg and delivered a brutal kick to Starsky's side, finding his mark, the already fragile injury he had received from an earlier gun shot.

_Ugh! _ Starsky gasped as he curled up into a ball, instinctively trying to protect his side, feeling the warm sticky blood as it seeped through his fingers.

Jericho looked down at him, furrowing his brow. "You had better learn to get a spine…Sanders doesn't like fighting amongst his men, and that is one thing he just won't tolerate! So if I were you I'd watch how I act around this place!" He spat as he and Jenkins returned to the task at hand, removing Sasha's body from the room.

oooOOOooo

Hutch walked into Dobey's office without even giving him the courtesy of knocking. Fortunately, Dobey was out. He searched inside the room and then in the squad room, not finding him anywhere.

"Where's Dobey?" He asked Stiglitz who was sitting nearest to the door.

"Went to lunch about 15 minutes ago." he responded as Hutch let out a huge sigh of disgust.

Hutch stormed out of the squad room, heading straight to the locker room to change into some clean clothes. He and Starsky always kept a spare change of clothes in their lockers, and God knew they needed them, more often then not.

His hand was stitched and bandaged tightly, his head still swimming from the mild pain relievers they had given them at the hospital. As he passed through the doors to the room, he heard elevated voices, seemingly in a heated discussion. He distinctly recognized Lyons voice as one of them and automatically assumed the second to be Novak's.

"_What the hell are you trying to pull here?" _ Lyons voice was pointed and filled with anger.

"_You have no idea what the hell you're talking about, you should really try to mind your own business." _ Novak responded and Hutch could make out the slight hint of nervousness.

"_You know exactly what I'm talking about!" _

"_One of these days, your big nose is going to get you into trouble…" _ Novak warned.

"_Is that a threat?" _Lyons asked, moving one step closer to his partner.

"_Take it how you will…" _Novak spewed as he attempted to walk past Lyons just to find himself being grabbed and shoved into a locker.

"_You listen and you listen good! I know what I heard, I know that you ratted out Starsky and I'm not going to stand here and let you get away with it!" _ Lyons growled his face as close to Novak's as possible.

"_Since when have you been such a fan of Jews?" _Novak hissed as Hutch rushed up behind Lyons, his eyes wide with rage.

"You ratted Starsky out?" Hutch shouted as he took Novak by the collar away from Lyons. "You son of a bitch! How could you do something like that? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"You can believe what ever the hell you want, I'm getting out of here!" Novak shouted as he jerked away from the tall blond.

"Novak, if I were you, I'd stick around until Dobey gets back, I think you may have some explaining to do." Hutch shouted after the detective as he left the locker room.

"Fuck off Hutchinson!" Novak replied before disappearing through the doors. "You always were a pansy!" And before Hutch could stop him, he was gone.

The tall blond looked at Lyons, "Just what exactly did you overhear?"

"I'm not exactly sure, but he was talkin' to someone, said that Starsky was workin' both sides of the fence and that they had better keep an eye on him…I'm pretty sure he was talking to Sanders."

"You really think your partner would stoop that low? I mean you really think that he would turn Starsky over to the bad guys like that?" Hutch asked in disbelief.

"You know him, you tell me. You think he'd roll on your partner? After all, he's already shot him…" Lyons asked.

"He what?" Hutch exclaimed, his eyes wrought with worry, remember the grazing bullet wound on his partner's side. "Novak did that?"

"Yeah, he woulda killed him if I hadn't stopped him." Lyons finished as Hutch's face flushed in anger.

Hutch thought momentarily as he recalled how much anger Novak held for Starsky, how racist and evil the junior detective was.

"Yeah, I do think he'd roll on Starsky, in a heartbeat…we gotta find Dobey, now! Come on, let's go!" Hutch stated with pure determination as he ran off, Lyons right on his heels.

oooOOOooo

Starsky lay there, holding his side as he stared up at the ceiling. He felt his warm blood seeping into his palm as he winced in pain. The door opened slowly as Sanders entered, looking down at the injured man.

"You should always rise when I walk into a room Mr. Starsky." He said.

Starsky huffed and struggled to sit up, still holding his left side as the blood flowed freer. "She's dead, Sasha's dead." Starsky grunted as he looked up at Sanders, expecting some type of reaction.

"I know, I was just interviewing replacements for her. It is going to take a while to train her, but I am sure she'll get it right." Sanders chuckled as Starsky fought the urge to throw up at the crime lord's feet. "You have no idea how long it took me, helping her perfect her technique."

"You're sick, you know that?" Starsky hissed as he looked down at his blood soaked hand.

"We really need to get Doc to look at that for you." Sanders stated as he picked up the phone and dialed three numbers. "Have Doc meet me in the sick room, I have a patient for him." He spoke slowly into the phone and then hung up, looking back at Starsky. "Can you stand on your own or should I bring Jenkins back in to help you?"

"I got it." Starsky retorted as he pushed himself off the ground, slowly getting to his feet.

"Lets go, we can talk on our way to see Doc." Sanders said as they headed down the hallway.

"Doc? You mean to tell me that you had a doctor right here on the grounds, an' you didn't do shit to help Hutch or Sasha?" Starsky asked, his anger rising.

"He isn't a real Doc, we just nicknamed him that. He is the one that takes care of our minor stuff, a few stitches here or there, he nurses us when we are sick, wraps our sprained ankles, that sort of stuff. Trust me, he doesn't have a degree, if that what's you're thinking. Besides, I was getting a little tired of Sasha and I was looking for some new blood anyway. I think you'll be happy with her replacement." Sanders concluded.

"Well if he ain't a real doc, then I don't 'really' need to see him." Starsky protested.

"I beg to differ, Mr. Starsky, I feel you are in need of attention and from the looks of things," he lifted Starsky's shirt with one finger before the brunet pulled away as they continued to walk down the hall, "

"Well that's okay, I'll take my chances." Starsky said as he placed his hand back over his wound.

"Not if you work for me, see I am a firm believer in the pecking order here, and until further notice, you take orders from me…" Sanders said leaving no room for discussion.

They continued down the corridor and entered the last door on the right, Sanders holding it up for Starsky as the brunet entered cautiously.

An older man stood on the far side of the room; he looked over his shoulder at the duo. "Whadya you do now Sanders?" He asked as he turned to see his new visitor.

"It's nothing I did, I assure you. One do his cop buddies did this." Sanders responded as he pointed to the brunet's side.

"Take off your shirt and sit down over there." The man ordered as Starsky looked to Sanders nervously.

"Don't look at me, do as he says." Sanders shrugged him off as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Starsky sat on the make shift exam table as he gingerly shucked off his shirt. The man in the room approached him, examining his room more closely.

"So they call you Doc?" Starsky tried to make small talk just to be ignored but the short dark haired man.

"You're gonna need stitches," he said matter of factly. He then headed towards his medicine cabinet and retrieved his supplies, bringing them back to the table.

He pulled out a suture needle with the 3.0 silk stitches already attached to it, holding it up to the light. Starsky's eyes grew wide as Doc leaned into him.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute here…what about some anesthetic?" Starsky asked nervously.

"Are you kidding me? Sanders men don't get numb for a few stitches." Doc informed Starsky as the brunet stared at him.

The man's fingers gently brushed across Starskys cut abdomen, checking where the previous stitches had been placed and marking his route. Starsky inhaled sharply as he felt the cold sharp sting of the needle as it pierced his raw flesh, he could feel the thread being pulled taught through his skin, pulling it with each tug. Once the suture was all the way through, he again felt the sharpness of the needle on the opposite side of his wound.

"Shit!" Starsky exhaled through his breath as he felt every centimeter of the cold steel, followed by the porous thread being tugged along. "You sure you know what you're doing?" Starsky asked, regretting those words as the Doc tied off the knot tightly.

"Damn it. Was that really necessary?" Starsky asked as he tried to prepare himself for the next suture.

"Anyone everyone tell you, you talk way too much?" Doc asked as, without warning, he stuck the brunet again, pulling the needle and thread through quickly, nearly tearing the skin. "You're making me nervous."

"No, don't go gettin' nervous on me; you need steady hands there, Doc." Starsky tried to encourage him.

"Then try keeping your mouth shut." He ordered as Starsky inhaled again through his teeth, squeezing his eyes together tightly as the Doc pierced the detective's skin again harshly.

Starsky concentrated hard on just getting through his medical treatment, praying that whatever this man was doing wouldn't leave any permanent damage. He knew he had to try and fit in, try and do what the expected him to, try to gain their trust. Once the doctor was finished, he cleaned the area ad put a new bandage on it, warning Starsky against any further damage to that particular area. He picked up his phone, dialed three numbers and informed the person on the other end that the subject was ready for pick up.

Before long, the door opened and Sanders reappeared, a new, eerie smile crossing his face. He literally swaggered into the room and right up to the brunet.

"I have a surprise for you Mr. Starsky." He explained as one hand swept in a backwards motion towards the door. "I've decided to get you help for your next assignment."

Starsky looked up at the door as it opened, his face lighting up, hoping for a slight moment that Hutch would walk through. His heart nearly seized up as Novak crossed through the threshold, a smug grin spread over his entire face. Starsky's shoulders slumped in disappointment as a new fear entered his soul.

"I think you know each other." Sanders finished, a definite hint of superiority and satisfaction resonated in his voice.

"Novak, what the hell?" Starsky mumbled.

"Miss me Detective?" Novak hissed as he walked over and sucker punched Starsky, knocking him off the table.

To Be Continued…


	12. Chapter 12

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

**CHAPTER 12**

"We need to move in now, damn it!" Hutch snapped angrily, slamming his palms on the top of Dobey's desk, as he leaned over to glare at his captain, his eyes flashing the color of steel, "I can't believe you agreed with the Feds to let Starsky go in all alone!"

"Calm down!" Dobey bellowed, standing up abruptly from his seat behind the desk, "Now tell me again what you heard, Lyons."

"Well, I'm not exactly sure, but I walked in on Novak talkin' to someone. I could only hear Novak's side of the conversation and he was telling someone that Starsky was working both sides of the fence and that they had better keep an eye on him…I'm pretty sure he was talking to Sanders . . . " Lyons said, "Novak stormed out of the room when Hutch overheard us arguing and began questioning him. I don't know where he went sir."

"You're assuming that it was Sanders he was talking to right?" Dobey said, "I mean you said you're not exactly sure . . ."

"Who else could he be talking to?" Hutch coldly interjected, "Who else would he leak that kind of vital information to . . . and now he's blown Starsky's cover. Cap'n, we need to get Starsky out of there!"

"You and I both know we can't just go storming in there," Dobey gruffed, "We first need to get the Feds to clear this, and then we'd need to get a search warrant and . . . "

"Then **DO IT**!" Hutch growled. Seeing the angry look on Dobey's face, Hutch slowly exhaled and dragged his hand through his hair, feeling frustrated and helpless with worry for his partner. The blond detective forced himself to speak more calmly, "We caught some of Sanders' men off the boat from the pier. That should be enough to get a search warrant into his place. If Novak ratted on Starsk, then he's alone in there Cap, we gotta do whatever it takes to get him out!"

There was a moment of heavy silence as Dobey pondered over what to do. Hutch stared at his captain anxiously and let out a sigh of relief, as he saw his captain reach for the phone to call the Feds. The tall blond shuddered abruptly as he felt the cold hand of fear clutch his heart, _'Hang on buddy,'_ he thought silently, _'Just hang on . . .'_

xxxXXXXXxxx

"Get up you stinkin' Jew!" Novak snarled, eyeing the fallen detective he so despised, wanting desperately to kick the brunet while he was hurt and down. Novak knew that Starsky was still hurting from the bullet graze he suffered back at the pier, and knowing that he had to have his wound stitched again brought a smirk to the dirty cop's face.

Starsky rose slowly from the floor, wiping the blood from the corner of his lip, his hand pressed against his newly stitched side. His mind raced, as he glared at Novak, his blue eyes shooting daggers at his nemesis. Obviously, from the looks of things, it didn't appear that Novak was there against his will. That realization sent a shiver of fear racing down his spine. The brunet knew his cover was probably blown.

It blew Starsky away to think that Novak was on the take. Novak was many things; most of them nasty, but to think the cop was a dirty fink and that he would rat on the department went beyond comprehension. If there was one thing Starsky couldn't stand, it was a dirty cop.

"Well I see you're finally wearing your true colors Novak," Starsky said calmly. The brunet turned to look at Sanders, "I'm surprised you hired this ass . . . thought you were a good judge of character!" Starsky said snidely.

"Actually Novak has been in my employ for quite some time now," Sanders said smugly, enjoying the confrontation between the two detectives, "Although I would have traded him in, for you, at the drop of a hat."

Novak glared at Sanders, then pointing at Starsky, he said, "That Jew is working for the Feds. They want the arms and he agreed to go under to help them get it."

"Shut up, Novak." Sanders said almost cordially, "What you are saying may be so, but Detective Starsky is at a pivotal point in his career." The crime boss calmly lit up another cigar and puffed on the fat, wet end, blowing aromatic smoke into the room, "The way I see it, he has a choice . . . he can choose to stay with us . . . or choose to die."

"This place will soon be crawling with cops." Novak warned, "Hutchinson walked in on an argument I had with my partner at the station and overheard how I sold Starsky out to you . . ."

"Overheard? When will you ever learn to shut that trap of yours Novak," Sanders snapped; he then turned to Starsky, "Now do you see why I wouldn't mind having another cop in my employ? This idiot is not only stupid but greedy . . ."

"And he's not even a Jew . . . how do ya like that?" Starsky added sarcastically, earning a smile of appreciation from Sanders. Novak glared at the dark haired detective, but for once kept his mouth shut.

Sanders dialed a three-digit number on the phone system and held the handset close to his ear, "Yeah Jenkins, it's me . . . swing the car around. We need to take Detective Starsky to a safe house for a bit. The cops will be here and I want the place clean. No drugs, no weapons and no evidence of Starsky ever being here . . . got it?" Sanders hung up the phone and turned to stare at the brunet, "Shall we go Starsky? I have a little proposition that I would like to discuss with you."

xxxXXXXXxxx

Hutch laid his head on the back of the chair facing Dobey's desk, closing his eyes to control the black, helpless rage that wanted to spew out. It had all been in vain, like he knew it would be. Going through all of the bureaucratic red tape and running around to get that warrant amounted to nothing . . . Sander's house was clean, they couldn't find anything to pin him down.

It frustrated Hutch that it had taken a few hours to get the search underway. First the Feds had argued with Dobey about blowing the operation, but they finally conceded, and then to get all the paper work done took almost another hour. Hutch knew that Novak would have had time enough to warn Sanders and that they would have cleaned up all evidence of any type of illegal dealings or evidence needed to indict Sanders in the smuggling of illegal arms into the State. And Starsky? There was nothing found to even suggest his presence ever being there in Sander's home.

Hutch squeezed his hands into tight fists, remembering the smug look Sander's had given him as they filed out of his house after searching it from top to bottom. _"The next time you drop by Detective Hutchinson, don't forget to bring your partner!" _Sanders taunted, and his men had laughed out loud.It took every ounce of his strength and willpower to not turn around and shove the cigar down Gary Sander's throat. It riled him to no extent to know that they had Starsky holed up somewhere, and it killed the blond to know that his partner was hurt and alone.

Hutch opened his eyes to stare at the stain on the ceiling above Dobey's desk, when his Captain's gruff voice said, "Well . . . no one's seen hide no hair of Novak since he left you and Lyons today . . ."

"What about the APB you put out on him?" Hutch asked softly, his pale blue eyes never leaving the stain.

"Nothing so far . . " Dobey said, eyeing his detective, feeling the strain and worry emanating from the blond. "Go home, Hutch . . . I'll call you if something turns up . . ."

Hutch turned to stare incredulously at his Captain, "Go home?" the blond said softly, "Go home and what Captain? With all due respect sir, what the hell were you thinking when you sent him out there alone?"

"It was either that or the slammer," Dobey snapped, "You weren't here . . . he opened fire on us . . . "

"Yes, I wasn't here," Hutch said quietly, cutting his captain off, "And that's why he did what he had to do to ensure my safety . . . . and that's why I'm going to do whatever I need to do to get him back."

"What do you mean by that?" Dobey said, dark eyes connecting with pale blue ones, as the blond slowly rose from the chair.

"It means, that I'm not just going to sit here doing nothing," Hutch said, feeling his ire growing with each passing moment, "Starsky is out there, alone. And we're just sitting here waiting for word on Novak. This is bullshit Cap, I gotta find my partner."

Dobey looked down at his hands, wondering if Starsky was still even alive. It sickened him to know that he had sent the curly headed, rambunctious detective out into a nest of vipers alone. Sanders wouldn't bat an eye at having Starsky terminated, and if the brunet was dead, Dobey knew he had only himself to blame. His heart felt heavy at the thought of Starsky's loss.

"Don't even think it." Hutch said angrily, watching as Dobey raised his head to look him in the eye. Hutch raised his finger and pointed it at the dark, rotund man, "He's alive . . . he's alive and I'm gonna find him!" The door slammed behind the blond detective as he stomped out and Dobey heaved a heavy sigh.

xxxXXXXXxxx

Starsky slowly opened his eyes and tracked the ceiling above him, feeling disoriented. He lay on the cot in the small room where they had left him. The room had no windows and since he had been blindfolded as soon as he got into the car, he had no idea where he was. How long had he been here? Not more than an hour or so . . . his mind drifted back to when they brought him to this "safe" house . . .

Jenkins had removed the blindfold the minute they had stepped into the room and Starsky had immediately squinted, his eyes adjusting to the bright light bulb that hung from the ceiling of the small room.

"Mr. Sanders said to make yourself at home," Jenkins said smirking, "He'll be here shortly to share his proposition with you. He needs to take care of Novak's screw up . . . needs to make sure that his unwanted guests are properly taken care of . . . I wouldn't doubt that your partner would probably be there too."

At Starsky's sudden glare, Jenkins laughed out loud, "You two guys queer or what? I never thought you'd be dumb enough to shoot at your own kind just to get your partner back. That's bordering on weird if you ask me . . ."

"Yeah?" Starsky drawled, looking around the small, sparsely furnished room, "Well, nobody's askin' ya. Maybe that's why Sanders' wants me to work for him . . . none of you assholes seem to know what loyalty is all about . . ."

"You have a wise mouth cop," Jenkins snarled, shoving Starsky towards the cot, "If you learn to shut it, then maybe we could get along." He slammed the door shut and Starsky heard the key turning in the lock.

_The brunet sighed and sat on the edge of the low cot, suddenly feeling exhausted, his body feeling the aches and pains he had suppressed, since being grazed by Novak's bullet last night. He was weary, and he slowly lay back onto the uncomfortable cot, his hand pressing gently against his side. Now that no one was here, he could finally let his guard down._

_"Aw Hutch, now would be a good time to send in the Calvary buddy," Starsky said quietly, allowing himself to miss his partner, feeling the forlorn emptiness of being without Hutch. He silently wondered how his blond friend was doing, feeling suddenly thankful that Hutch was at the hospital where he should be. Just knowing Hutch was safe made Starsky feel at peace. What he did back at the pier had been worth it, if he could save Hutch. He closed his eyes, dark lashes lying like sable crescents against his cheeks, finally letting the pain and exhaustion wash over him as he fell into dreamless slumber._

Starsky slowly forced himself to sit up, gasping at the pain that flared and burned in his side. He probed at the stitches gently, seeing the red streaks that radiated from the wound, feeling the heat that came from the injured site. He felt weary and a bit woozy, but he shrugged it off as he heard voices coming down the corridor outside of the door to his small room.

The brunet struggled to get it together, knowing he had to put on his tough exterior when dealing with these whippos, though all he wanted to do was to lie back down and sleep off the dizzness and pain.

The door opened and Sanders walked in, the ever-present cigar stuck obscenely out of his mouth, the smoke quickly clouding the small space in the room. The aromatic smell made the detective feel suddenly nauseous, and he quickly attempted to swallow down the bile that rose in his throat. Jenkins and Novak quickly followed suit, and soon the room became stuffy and crowded.

"Well Starsky," Sanders said amiably, "Sorry it took me so long . . . but I did get to see your partner. He's looking even better than you are," Sanders laughed, "Looks like the hospital did him wonders! Too bad our doc couldn't give you the kind of care he had huh?" Jenkins and Novak chuckled at that last statement.

Starsky stood, refraining from grabbing on to his injured side as he faced Sanders. _Hutch._ It made him happy to know that his partner was all right. At least now he knew that Hutch was out of the hospital and was looking for him Hearing about his blond counterpart made him yearn to see Hutch once more, but he pushed the thought of his partner from his mind. No time for sentimental emotions, these men could snuff him with just a nod from Gary Sanders.

He needed his wits about him, and yet, it was so difficult to think, much less stand, with the fever that burned throughout his body. Starsky inconspicuously leaned against the wall, while Sanders rambled on. Although this helped him to keep his balance, it radiated casual arrogance to the other men in the room. The dark haired detective forced himself to concentrate on what Sanders was saying between puffs inhaled from his cigar.

" . . . and my question is, do you still want to be a part of my organization?" Sanders smiled, "You see Starsky . . . I like you . . . I like your style. The way I see it, it would be a waste to kill you. Of course . . . knowing that you would have sold me out to the Feds, it makes it difficult for me to trust you now." Sanders paused, eyeing the silent detective, noting his flushed appearance, "You don't look well . . ."

"Yeah? Well all that smokin' don't do nuthin' for you either." Starsky crack wised, "Ever take a good look at yourself in the mirror Sanders?"

Sanders chuckled, amused by the cocky brunet who leaned nonchalantly against the wall, "That's what I like about you Starsky. . . you have spirit . . . something that is sadly lacking in most of my men. I want you to work for me, but you would have to prove your loyalty to me by passing a test that I have thought up."

"More head games Sanders?" Starsky said drolly. It was difficult to think, to follow Sanders' train of thought, to act indifferent, when his whole being was screaming out a warning. His side ached terribly and he wanted desperately to sit down and give in to the weariness that bombarded and weighed him down.

"Here . . ." Sanders said suddenly, handing Starsky a hand gun, "This is how much I trust you . . . I said want you to work for me, but I already have Novak employed here. "

Starsky quickly looked over at Novak who looked suddenly frightened and nervous.

Sanders continued, "Unfortunately, I've reached the point where I don't need a screw-up like Novak in my employ any longer. I want you to kill him, and you in turn, will take his place. My offer still holds Starsky . . . you would be right under Jenkins, with your own crew of men to lead. You just need to kill Novak to prove your loyalty and obedience to me. Really Starsky, this isn't a difficult task that I'm asking . . . it's not like there is any love lost between the two of you."

"What the fuck?" Novak snapped, backing away as Starsky turned the point of the gun at him, "What the hell is going on here? You're gonna let that Jew take my place?"

"No . . . Starsky will have a higher position than you ever had in my organization, Novak," Sanders said smiling, nodding to Jenkins who quickly twisted Novak's arms behind his back, holding the struggling man in place.

Starsky drew back the gun's hammer, arming the piece, as it aimed with deadly accuracy on the center of Novak's chest.

"F-fuck!" Novak stuttered, feeling the nervous sweat that ran down his back. Everyone at the precinct knew how proficient Starsky was with any weapon. "Wait a minute, Starsky . . . I don't . . ."

"What?" Starsky said softly, his voice low and menacing, as he walked slowly towards the older detective, "No racist remark this time Novak . . . hmm? Let 'im go . . . he ain't goin' anywhere . . ." Starsky said to Jenkins, never taking his eyes, or his aim off of Novak. Jenkins chuckled and let Novak go.

"M-Mr. Sanders . . . please . . ." Novak begged, glancing at the cigar smoking man, who stood to one side of the room, a huge grin plastered on his face, "I'm s-sorry . . . please . . . let me make it up to you . . ." Novak looked once again at the dark haired detective who advanced slowly towards him, "Please Starsky . . . all those things I said . . . I was just joking . . ."

"Jokin'?" Starsky said, his dark brows raised mockingly, "Don't see anybody laughing now, huh Novak?"

"Please . . . .don't . . ." Novak began, his trembling legs gave out and he lowered his head and sank to his knees before the angry brunet. Starsky grabbed the older cop's thinning hair and pulled his head up, sticking the barrel of the gun against Novak's forehead.

"Say goodbye . . ." Starsky whispered.

Novak closed his eyes, knowing that this was the end, when suddenly he felt himself being pushed to one side. Starsky scrambled and crouched above him, protecting the cowering man with his own body as he pointed the gun at Sanders and fired.

'Click.' Nothing.

Sanders laughed hysterically, slapping his knee in his amusement. The other men joined in and the room was filled with boisterous derision and mocking laughter. Sanders gasped, trying to breathe, his eyes watering and he struggled to get a hold of himself. "I knew it . . ." he snickered, "You're a goody two shoes. You'd save this scum, even at the cost of your own life. You're an idiot Starsky . . . do you think I'd really put a bullet in there? Your too trusting . . ."

"Can't blame me for tryin'" Starsky panted, the quick movement of pushing Novak down and drawing his weapon to fire at Sanders caused the room to spin crazily.

"Get up you cowardly dog!" Sanders snapped at Novak who got to his feet awkwardly, "Looks like I can't get rid of you . . . so you can get rid of him!" Sanders nodded towards the brunet detective who also rose slowly to his feet.

The metamorphosis on Sanders face was instantaneous. Gone was the frightened look of a man about to be killed, only to be replaced by a hard, triumphant sneer. "You mean . . .you're letting me have this Jew to do with as I please?" Novak said almost hesitantly, almost unable to believe his luck had changed.

"You can do whatever you want with this cop." Sanders said, "Humiliate him, torture him, do whatever pleases you, but in the end, I want you to kill him. The world doesn't need any more good Samaritans like him. Take him Novak . . . just make sure you waste him!"

To be continued . . .


	13. Chapter 13

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

**CHAPTER 13**

Hutch rushed to his car; looking over his shoulder he was shocked to see Lyons following him. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" Hutch asked shortly.

"With you, if you need back-up, I don't want to be too far away." Lyons retorted sharply jumping in the passenger seat of Hutch's beat up LTD.

Hutch looked over angrily at the detective, his mouth opening to speak, but being cut off sharply. "Don't even bother," Lyons stated, "I'm not leaving, so wither we go together, or we stay here, you make the call."

Hutch shook his head, and then reluctantly started his car, earning a slight grin from his passenger. "Where to?" Lyons inquired.

"Sanders house, I have a feeling we missed something…" Hutch stated as he pulled out of the parking garage.

"But didn't you hear Dobey, he told you to stay away from his house, or else." Lyons said nervously.

"That's right, but he never said anything about you going back there!" Hutch snorted as they pulled on to the roadway, Lyons face paling in fear. "You wanted to come along." Hutch added as he continued down the road, his passenger becoming very silent.

Novak's excitement was difficult to hide, the smile that graced that man's face was more then proof that he was going to enjoy killing his nemesis. He held a gun in his right hand as he wiped his left palm across his trousers, going from a nervous sweat, to pure joy and pleasure.

"Guess what Starsky? Looks like it's gonna be just you and me…how does that make you feel Jew? Huh? I'm really going to enjoy this…" Novak spewed as he walked the floor, circling the curly haired detective, playing the cat and mouse game that he thrived on. "If you're a real good boy, and you beg me, maybe I will consider making your death, quick and as painless as possible. You just do as I say, and I'll try to take it easy on you, for old times sake…but if you want to continue to pretend that you're superior to the rest of us, then I'm going to enjoy breaking you, your spirit along with every fucking bone in your body…" Novak seethed as he stopped in his tracks in front of Starsky.

"Tell me something Novak, just what is it you have against Jewish people?" Starsky asked, looking down his nose at the man in front of him, his heart rate picking up speed along with his anxiety.

"Isn't the fact that you are Jewish enough? Why would I need anything else, just like your nigger friends…you all come here with your superior attitudes and your martyr type syndrome, thinking that what you and your people have suffered that the world seems to owe you all something! Well I for one think that there was a reason that you and your kinds have suffered, because you have all asked for it in one way or another. You are an inferior race, but you cant just except that and your place in this world. You all constantly try to pull yourselves up in this world and step all over any one in your way, well I for one am not going to take it anymore, the more of you and your kind that I can rid this world of, the better!" He spewed his venom.

"Listen to me Novak, it's not too late, we can get out of this together…" Starsky tried to reason with the man, knowing that it was a long shot.

Jenkins looked up at the pair, "Oh isn't this sweet, the Jew and his Polish buddy, playing al nicey nice." Sanders man taunted Novak.

"Shut the fuck up Jenkins!" Novak spat as he whipped around, his elbow connecting with Starsky's injured side, dropping the brunet instantly to his knees.

Starsky stayed on his knees, bent over, one arm keeping him from falling face first onto the floor, the other holding his side. He gasped, trying desperately to catch his quickly fading breath as he concentrated on the ground in front of him.

"You know…" Starsky gasped, fighting hard to breathe, "You're a dead man Novak…" he panted, "if Sanders doesn't kill you…Hutch will…" He said with all conviction he could muster, feeling the bile trying hard to rise in his throat as he swallowed it back.

"If you ask me, this is a test from Mr. Sanders, similar to the one he just gave you, but you failed." Novak circled the injured detective, "What more could I ask for, I am getting the chance to prove my loyalties to Mr. Sanders and getting to kill a Jew in the process, life doesn't get much better than this…" He stated, standing on Starsky's right side, pulling back his leg and letting it fly forward, kicking him in the side and knocking him to the ground. "I just can't decide if I want to make this fast or slow."

Both Jenkins and Novak roared in laughter, "This is too much fun, why don't you take your time." Jenkins encouraged Novak.

Starsky lay on his injured side, closing his eyes tight, trying to will away the pain and anger. "I ain't gonna go down easy, so you better take your best shot."

Novak reached down and pulled the defiant brunet up by his curls, "I can't wait to see the look on your partner's face when he finds your body." Novak continued as he delivered a hard right hook to Starsky's jaw, sending the brunet stumbling, crashing against the desk just to the right of him. Novak's hands were quickly on his back, pulling him back towards him, "it'll be the best thing that ever happened to that stupid blond blintz as you call him! He just won't realize it at first, but he will in the long run!"

Novak pulled back, preparing to deliver another blow, just to have Starsky raise his left arm, blocking his punch with his forearm, and delivering his own wicked blow with his right fist, connecting with Novak's jaw, the satisfying feeling of Novak's teeth cutting into Starsky's hand and the brunet saw the immediate flow of blood start to trickle from the left side of Novak's mouth. He instantly felt two large and very strong arms grab him from behind, locking themselves on to his elbows and pulling both arms back.

Novak quickly recovered and stepped forward, socking Starsky right in the most effective area of his stomach, cause the brunet to gasp and choke, unable to draw in even the smallest of breaths as his whole body leaned forward. Once the man behind him let go, Starsky dropped hard on to his knees once again, fighting to breathe.

"Whatsa matter…Novak, can't take…me on your own?" Starsky struggled to say as he inhaled short quick breaths. "You need help…from this moron?" Starsky taunted the man. "You wanna take me Novak, take me, one on one, fair fight!"

"You got a real smart mouth on you Starsky, an' it's about time someone shut it for you!" Novak growled as he delivered an uppercut to Starsky's jaw, sending him flying backwards.

The brunet grabbed his bleeding side, curling into the pain as he could tell that his stitches had yet again been ripped from the wound.

Hutch pulled up in front of Sanders house, killing his engine as he looked at Lyons in the passenger seat, shaking his still throbbing left hand, the bandages making it look even more swollen then it was.

"You okay?" Hutch asked, noting the paling complexion of his temporary sidekick.

"M'fine." He answered reminding Hutch of his own partner that he was trying to save, as they climbed out of the car both of them checking their weapons before moving towards the residence.

Hutch and Lyons kept their weapons drawn as the moved cautiously to the front of the house, Lyons moving up first, with Hutch guarding his back. As they reached the front door, one of them on either side, a subtle nod from Hutch indicated to Lyons to move. Swinging around, he kicked in the door as Hutch went high and Lyons went low, covering the entrance way.

"Freeze!" Lyons shouted at the two men that jumped to run for cover. Both men stopped in their tracks, hands in the air.

"Turn around slowly." Hutch instructed them as they obeyed, automatically placing their hands on their heads, interlocking their fingers, obviously having done this before. "Well if it isn't our friend Jericho!" Hutch recognized the man that had driven him to the hospital and walked towards him, his massive 357 held out in front of him, the intense glare radiating from the blonde's crystal blue orbs, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Hey you can't do this…" The as of yet, unnamed man complained. "Where's your warrant? You can't bust in here like that." He complained.

"You saw it earlier today, didn't you hear, they're good for 24 hours." Lyons lied, Hutch snorting in laughter mostly because the inept man believed him and was satisfied with the answer.

"Oh, okay…" he answered sheepishly as he turned around to face the wall, keeping his hands in place.

Hutch stepped heavily towards Jericho, a vicious and harmful gleam in his eye; he had one mission, to find his friend.

"Where's my partner…?" Hutch asked, his weapon held up to the level of Jericho's head. "And don't you dare try to tell me you don't know."

Jericho started to shake, sweating profusely as he looked terrified, into Hutch's menacing eyes.

"I swear man…they didn't tell me where they were taking him…I swear it…" he stuttered.

"Yeah, well I think you know, and if you don't remember, my weapon here is going to become very familiar with certain parts of your anatomy…you got that?" Hutch spoke low and with deep intent, his voice even making Lyons more than a little nervous. "See, if you think my partner was a force to reckon with, he ain't got nothin' on me. I could show you things that would make him scream!" He stated, briefly flipping the barrel of his gun towards the other man that Lyons had restrained.

"Mr. Sanders will kill me if I tell you…please don't do this." Jericho pled.

"Well, I'll kill you if you don't, so either way you look at it, you're a dead man…unless you wanna cooperate with me, an' I'll see to it you get some protection." Hutch vowed.

"Auh man, honest they took him to a safe house…he has so many of them, I have no idea which one he's at…but I can tell you there was another cop with him…" Jericho spoke hastily as he felt Hutch's bandaged hand that was moving from having a grip of his shirt, up to his neck and beginning to squeeze. "Look, I gotta level with you, it usually isn't a good thing when Mr. Sanders takes a guest to one of his houses…a lot of times they don't come back…and I really liked that partner of yours."

"This other cop that you mentioned, what's his name?" Hutch demanded answers as he shoved Jericho back into the wall, knocking a little air out of the frightened man's lungs.

"Novak…don't know his first name, just know him by Novak. I've seen him around here before." Jericho answered as all the color in Hutch's face drained.

"Son of a bitch. Novak's in on this whole deal…" Hutch said in almost a whisper as Lyons looked back, over his shoulder at the blond.

"That explains where he ran off to _and_ why he was so quick to roll on Starsky." Lyons responded.

"How'd my partner look, was he hurt, was he okay?" Hutch asked Jericho, his heart yearning to hear comforting words.

"He was bleeding, his left side I think it was, but Doc stitched him up and he was fine." Jericho informed the officer as Hutch slowly released his prey.

"Doc? You had a doctor here in the house?" Hutch inquired.

"Well he's not a real doc, we just call him that." Jericho answered causing Hutch become concerned.

"You had better pray that my partner is okay, cause if he isn't…" Hutch's words were cut of by several rounds of gunfire coming from behind him. "Get down!" He shouted at Lyons as he threw Jericho to the ground, shielding him with his own body, turning quickly and returning fire.

Once the hail of gunfire ceased, Hutch was safe, lifting his head to scour the room, Jericho was safe and alive, thanks to Hutch's quick reflexes, he looked over at Lyons. The man that Lyons had been detaining was lying there, staring in an eternal gaze at the ceiling, a bullet piercing his skull, right between his eyes, with just a small amount of blood trickling from the wound. Lyons lay next to him; Hutch could hear his ragged breathing as he saw the blood seeping through the back of his light gray jacket, two wounds that appeared to grow larger as the endless flow of blood dyed the fabric.

To Be Continued…


	14. Chapter 14

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

**CHAPTER 14**

Hutch helped the paramedics lift Lyons into the parked ambulance. The downed detective had never regained consciousness and Hutch worried for him, especially since one of the two bullets that pierced his back was precariously close to his spine. If Lyons pulled through, Hutch silently wondered if he would ever walk again.

Sanders' place was now swarming with cops that responded to the call the blond detective had made to dispatch after making sure that Jericho was safely cuffed. On a quick inspection of the house, it seemed like most of Sanders men had flown the coop.

It surprised the tall blond that Sanders would have his men open fire on them like that especially when he was not there. Now the police had the right to check out his place without a warrant. Hutch walked back into the room where Jericho was held, intent upon speaking to one of the uniformed officers who watched over Jericho. The cuffed man looked up when the blond walked in, his eyes bright with frustration.

Jericho knew that if Hutch hadn't thrown him down and covered him, he would probably be dead by now. It angered him that Sanders would choose to snuff him out like that . . . like he was a nothing. He'd worked for Sanders' organization for over three years now, had served the cigar-smoking jerk loyally, and this was how he was paid back? Jericho could feel the red-hot anger rising and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "I think I know where they're keepin' your partner."

Hutch's head snapped as he turned to glare at Jericho. The line between the blond's brow deepened as the detective sternly frowned, "You lying son of a bitch," Hutch snarled, grabbing the front of Jericho's shirt with two hands, lifting the cuffed man to his feet, roughly shaking the smaller man, mindless of the pain that shot through his bandaged hand, "You said you didn't know where he was."

"Take it easy," Jericho gulped, "I was tellin' ya the truth . . . Sanders has a bunch of safe houses; I said I **think** I know where they're keeping your partner. Sanders tends to use his safe houses in order. I don't know for certain which one Starsky's at, but if Sanders follows his usual pattern, then they're at the small white house in the hills."

"What's the address?" Hutch snapped, shoving Jericho down into the chair. He nodded at the uniform who took out his notepad and pencil.

"Don't know." Jericho said stiffly, his eyes flashing indignantly. Jericho could feel his heart skip a beat as he met the glacier-blue glare of the blond. "L-look," the bound man stuttered uneasily, "I-I want to m-make a deal . . ."

"No deals!" Hutch growled, his fingers itching to choke the living daylights out of the stuttering man, "Now tell me where my partner is!"

"I d-don't know the address, but I can sh-show you where it is." Jericho said. The hostile rage he sensed from the blond caused beads of sweat to run down his back. "I told you, I like Starsky . . . I wanna help him, but I gotta help myself too."

Hutch silently thought about it. He knew he would probably spend hours pouring over the files that the Feds and the department had accumulated of Sanders and his activities over the years. Starsky didn't have that kind of time. Hutch knew needed to move, and he needed to move now! "I can't promise you anything," Hutch said slowly, "I can only put in a good word for you and tell them how you attempted to help save an officer's life, but I can't guarantee you anything."

Jericho pondered over the blond's honesty for a few seconds before he grinned, "Whatever . . . there are no guarantees in life . . . but I know this for sure, if we don't hurry up . . . your partner's a dead man."

"Tie him up!" Sanders said smiling. It had been amusing watching the two detectives slugging it out. Imagine that . . . two cops grappling on the floor like some dirty back street derelicts. The thought made Gary Sanders laugh out loud. He calmly lit another cigar as he watched Jenkins and Novak roughly lift the hurting brunet, stretching his arms up and out as they snapped his wrists to the manacles the hung from chains that extended from the ceiling.

The crime boss grinned around the fat, wet end of the cigar. All of his "safe" houses had been specially designed with rooms like these, created for his sadistic pleasure. After all, in the line of work that he was in, there were many times that his associates had to be "coerced" into agreeing with his way of thinking. Sanders smiled as he saw the grimace of pain that crossed the detective's face as the chain was cranked up until his feet barely touched the floor. "Okay Novak . . . impress me . . . " Sanders chuckled, his eyes gleaming in anticipation.

Starksy lowered his head, trying to stop the trembling in his extremities. He could feel his wound tearing slightly as his arms were stretched above him and he bit back a groan, tucking his head closer to his chest, breathing raggedly through the pain. He felt weak and weary and he closed his eyes as the room continued to spin. The fever was raging throughout his bruised and hurting body and Starsky wondered silently how long he would last.

Novak wiped the sweat from his brow with his handkerchief, breathing heavily as he tried to get his wind back. He could tell that Starsky was hurting, his dark head hung between his outstretched arms, hiding his expression from the men in the room. It would be a pleasure to play with this man; this Jew had been a sore thorn in his side for years. It burned Novak up to see this young cop excel and accumulate commendations faster than anyone he knew. He had watched Starsky move up in the ranks, becoming a detective before he did. A jealous rage filled his heart as he eyed the brunet.

At Sanders' nod, Jenkins handed a butterfly knife to Novak, who whipped the blade around until it swiveled into its locked position. Novak walked towards the bound man, feeling empowered with the blade that he clutched tightly in his hand. The blade, he knew, was razor sharp and he wondered where he should start. Maybe he could cut off all of that curly mop that dripped with perspiration . . . no girls would find Starsky attractive after that. The older cop smiled. That would be too funny . . . a bald Jew!

At the sound of the swiveling blade, Starsky wearily lifted his head to eye his nemesis, watching as Novak slowly walked towards him. His cobalt eyes lowered to the blade the older cop held. "Novak . . ." the brunet murmured softly, trying to talk some sense and calm the maniacal look that gleamed from the cop's eyes, "Listen to me . . ."

"Fuck you! It's time you listened to me hotshot!" Novak snarled, "I don't have to listen to your senior officer shit anymore!" In an angry rage, Novak slashed downward from the brunet's chest, easily slicing Starsky's tee-shirt open, watching in fascination as blood welled up in a thin long gash made from the blade.

The brunet tensed, his damp hands grasped tightly to the chains above him, feeling the blade slicing cleanly through his skin, gasping at the sudden sharp pain that followed, as his blood slowly dripped from the deep wound that ran from his chest to his abdomen. Starsky breathed through the pain that ravaged his body, refusing to cry out as he glared defiantly at Novak. "That all . . . you can do?" Starsky said, purposely taunting the older cop to move in closer.

Novak could feel himself losing it, as he heard Sanders and Jenkins chuckle at the brunet's bravery. "Fuck you Jew!" Novak snarled, rushing the bound man, his blade gleaming wickedly in the dim light of the room.

Starsky braced himself, his hands clenching the chains tightly, as Novak charged. At the last moment, Starsky pulled himself up by the chains, using the muscles in his abdomen to kick both of his legs into Novak's mid-section. The older cop stumbled backwards and fell hard on his ass, much to the amusement of Sanders and Jenkins who roared out their approval.

Novak got up hastily, steaming with humiliation. "You bastard! You always liked making me look bad didn't you?"

Starsky closed his eyes as he struggled to get a hold of the pain, his breathing rapid and shallow. That last move had really aggravated the wound to his side, and he could feel the blood leaking slowly from its ravaged edges. He blinked the sweat from his eyes, shaking his head slightly to clear his blurred vision. Although he knew he would probably pay for that stunt he pulled, it had been well worth the effort it took to make Novak fall on his ass. Starsky could feel the burn in his arms as he watched the older man struggle to get to his feet.

Novak slowly got up, steaming with humiliation. "You bastard! You always liked making me look bad didn't you? You and that blond haired pansy that you partnered with always had Dobey wrapped around your fingers. Never could figure out why Hutch always hung around you minorities."

Starsky watched as Novak approached him cautiously this time, and flinched as the cop tore the ripped tee shirt from his battered torso.

The older man grinned when he saw the damage he'd inflicted with the blade, and he quickly reached out to yank the weeping bandage from the brunet's side exposing the partially torn wound. "Aw, some of your stitches fell out Starsky . . . you're just gonna have to take these out too . . . " Novak said sarcastically, indicating the remaining sutures, "And redo 'em. Here boy, let me help you with that."

Before Starsky could brace himself for the onslaught, Novak suddenly rammed the knife into the partly opened wound, dragging the sharp blade downward in an attempt to sever the stitches that remained.

The stabbing pain was excruciating and it caused the brunet to cry out before he could stop himself, his curly, dark head falling backwards, his ribs heaving, struggling to breath through the burning pain, gasping, as Novak slowly pulled the blade from his ravaged body. "Well looky here . . .you bleed red just like me . . . how do you like that?" Novak sneered sarcastically, watching the rivulet of blood as it flowed from the re-opened wound, "Maybe we ain't so different after all!"

Sanders clapped his hands and laughed. "Now that was something Novak . . . let's have more of those kinds of moves!"

Starsky gritted his teeth, refusing to make any more sounds that would add to Sanders enjoyment. His labored breathing sounded loud to his ears as he lifted his weary head, blinking the sweat from his eyes, locking his gaze onto Novak's as he gasped, "We ain't different . . . we're both men . . . and we're both cops . . . don't do this Novak . . ."

Starsky's bright blue gaze unnerved the older cop. Novak hesitated. Listening to the words of the wounded man made Novak remember a time when he was fresh from the Academy . . . made him remember how proud he felt when he became an officer of the law . . . to serve and protect . . . to uphold justice and right the wrongs of society . . .

"Well Novak . . . let's get on with the show!" Sanders snapped, growing impatient with the delay, "What's taking you so long? I want you to make Starsky beg . . . break him good and make him beg for his life…and do it now!"

To be continued . . .


	15. Chapter 15

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

** Chapter 15 **

Novak looked around nervously, all eyes were on him. He looked back at the defiant brunet hanging before him, his eyes drawn to the rivulet of blood that ran down his senior officer's torso.

"Doesn't death scare you Starsky?" Novak asked quietly, knowing he would be the instrument of this man's demise. He could feel the pressure of having an audience, could feel the almost charged energy of the room as Sanders and Jenkins anxiously anticipated his next move. Novak watched as the brunet slowly lifted his head from his chest, his dark blue eyes blazing menacingly.

Starsky gritted his teeth, taking in a deep breath to speak, "No . . . dyin' doesn't scare me, what Hutch . . . is gonna do to you does…" Starsky softly said, his voice alone caused Novak to suppress a shudder, as he looked over his shoulder at Sanders who raised a speculative eyebrow of admiration at the bound man's defiance.

The older cop knew Sanders was growing impatient, waiting to be entertained. Sanders lived off of other people's pain and fear. _'That man is a sick son of a bitch!'_ Novak thought silently and he knew that if he didn't act soon, Sanders might just have him killed next.

Novak brutally backhanded Starsky across the right cheek, sending his head snapping to the side. He took the knife and maliciously shoved it into the detective's side, staring eye to eye into the unblinking, blue depths of the hurting brunet. Novak was a smart man; he knew just where to strike to avoid any life threatening injuries.

Starsky stared at his enemy, holding his breath as he felt the searing, sharp pain of the blade slowly being removed. The agony paralyzed his vocal cords, he couldn't speak, he could barely breathe, but he refused to give Novak the satisfaction of seeing him writhe in pain.

"That hurts like a mother fucker, doesn't it?" Novak taunted him as Starsky allowed his head to drop forward, his chin touching his chest as he fought against the excruciating pain that tore through his body. Novak reached down and grabbed the newly injured side in his hand, squeezing harshly as Starsky let out a loud groan, sounding more like an animal dying, unable to control the unwanted sound from escaping his parched lips.

"I want to hear you beg me to stop, beg me for your life!" Novak spat as Starsky could feel the heat from his rancid breath on his face. "Say it!!!" He shouted as he felt the satisfying feeling of the brunet's warm blood flowing through his fingers and over his hand.

"Fuck . . . off. . ." Starsky panted. "I won't…give you…the satisfaction…" He growled a throaty noise as he struggled to stay conscious.

"What are you waiting for huh?" Novak shouted, fascinated by the brunet's strength and determination, "Maybe if you beg for your life Jew boy, Mr. Sanders might just spare you . . ."

"Go to hell…" Starsky grimaced, sucking in the air through his teeth as he interjected, "You're really stupid . .. you know that Novak? Sanders is just . . . gonna kill you when he's done with you…just…like he gave me the …chance to kill you…" He sucked in a lung full of air. "You're nuthin' to him…" Starsky tried to get out before Novak's next attack.

"I think that fever of yours has finally gotten to your brain!" Novak spewed as he delivered a vicious punch to Starsky's gut, taking the brunet by surprise at his sudden attack.

Starsky bent forward gasping for air. He felt sick, swallowing back the urge to throw up. He lowered his head again, struggling to ride out the wave of pain that engulfed his being, knowing he wouldn't be able to take much more of this. Hoping he could appeal to Novak's cop mind, Starsky mustered up his failing energy, his voice raspy and pain filled, "Think about it…" the wounded man gasped, "Only reason why you're still here…" He sucked in more air, "is 'cause I didn't waste you when I had the chance… you and I . . . we'll both be dead men before this night . . . is over."

Novak could feel the trembling in his limbs as a light went on in his head. He intuitively knew that the battered cop was inevitably speaking the truth. He looked over his shoulder at his boss; the dangerous, almost maniacal glint in the Sander's eye was evident even from across the room.

xxxXXXXXxxx

Hutch drove like he had never driven before, his mind racing, as he headed for his partner. Jericho sat quietly in the passenger seat, his hands holding on tightly, blanching his knuckles as Hutch sped through the streets. He occasionally gave directions, but then made sure that he kept his mouth quiet other than that. The determination in the blonde's face was more then evident as he flew towards his final destination.

"You had better hope we aren't too late." Hutch warned his passenger, having already notified Dobey of their findings. "My partner had better still be alive, or you and Novak are going to be sorry!"

"Believe me, I already am." Jericho whispered as he looked out the window at the passing lights and cars.

"You just better pray you picked the right safe house!" Hutch spat as he hit his hand on the steering wheel at the upcoming traffic, completely forgetting about his injury, and cursing the memory.

"I already did." Jericho mumbled under his breath.

"_Zebra three, this is dispatch, come in Zebra three."_ a familiar voice resonated over the airwaves as Hutch instantly reached for his radio.

"This is Zebra three, go ahead." Hutch replied, holding the receiver to his mouth, his eyes never leaving the road ahead of him.

"_Hutch, we have a patch through from Captain Dobey." _Mildred's voice gave Hutch a sense of grounding.

"Patch him through Mildred." Hutch paused and waited for the connection.

"_Hutchinson, Dobey here, thought you might like an update on Lyons, he's not out of the woods yet, the wounds are pretty serious, he's in surgery as we speak but he's holding his own." _

"Thanks Cap, let me know as soon as you hear anything." Hutch answered.

"_I will son." his captain _assured him as the call ended.

Hutch looked back at his passenger, "You just better pray that he lives too." He warned the quaking man, returning his concentration on the road ahead.

xxxXXXXXxxx

Starsky blinked away the perspiration that stung his eyes, finally closing them in an attempt to keep the room from spinning. He felt nauseous and disoriented, his chest and side burned from the razor sharp cuts he received from Novak. His long, dark lashes fanned out against his pale cheeks and he gasped softly at the sudden agony that flared beneath his ribs, struggling to ride out the wave of pain that flared up in his upper body. He clenched the chains tighter in his sweaty hands to keep from crying out. His mind drifted to his partner. _Hutch_. 'Now _would be a good time to make an appearance buddy',_ the dark haired detective thought silently, fondly picturing his tall, blond partner behind his closed lids, wondering if he would ever be get a chance to tell Hutch how much his friendship had meant to him.

Novak looked at the bloody blade that he held his hand, feeling the ever-present glare of Sanders at his back. _'What the fuck am I doing?'_ he silently berated himself, looking over at the dark haired detective who hung wearily before him, his bleeding chest heaving with each rapid, but shallow breath. Novak knew Starsky was fighting to stay conscious, and he could feel the warm flush of admiration for the brunet fill his heart. Starsky was a damn good cop. He didn't deserve to die like some animal hanging up to be butchered, and yet, Novak knew if he didn't do as Sanders wanted, he would probably end up dead too.

"Is there something wrong Novak?" Sanders grinned, lighting up another cigar, as Novak turned to look at him, "You seem a bit hesitant all of a sudden . . . don't tell me you've suddenly acquired a conscience?" Jenkins and Sanders roared with laughter as they eyed the older man's discomfort. "Oh I know, you took a likin' to this scum, is that it?" Sanders continued as he added to Novak's confusion.

Novak ignored their jibes and faced the bound man once again, noticing for the first time the trembling in the brunet's arms taunt arms as his hands grasped the chains tightly. He could see the rivulets of blood that dripped down the hurting man's torso and side, pooling into a tiny puddle at Starsky's feet. The dark haired detective was losing a lot of blood. Novak knew time was running out . . . not only for Starsky, but for himself as well. Novak clenched the handle of the butterfly blade. Its smoothness calmed the older cop and he knew he had no choice, but to save himself. Novak determinedly held out the knife and approached the manacled man.

Starsky's eyes filled with desperation and fear as Novak drew closer. "Look Novak, you…you gotta…listen to me…" Starsky pled weakly, the pain that seared through his side causing his head to swim. "Sanders' is gonna do you, just like…he's doin' me…he doesn't…give a shit…about you…an' you know it…" Starsky was finally able to spit out.

Novak locked eyes with the severely injured detective as he took another step towards him, "You never did know when to keep your mouth shut Starsky!" Novak spewed his vicious venom.

"Its not…too…late Novak…you can…" Starsky's head dropped forward all of his strength being drained from his body like the blood that dripped onto the floor beneath him, "…you can still save yourself…forget 'bout me, an' get yourself…" he inhaled sharply, "…get yourself outta here…" He whispered as he felt the spinning out of control, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and then back forward again.

"I told you to shut the fuck up!" Novak shouted as he reached out and struck Starsky across his face with an open handed slap.

He heard mumbling coming from behind him and turned to see Sanders and Jenkins watching on, approvingly, nodding their heads in unison, enjoying the show play out in front of them. Novak's mind was racing as he looked at Starsky dying right before his eyes. He thought back imagining him as he once was, not long ago, a strong, healthy and passionate man. He remembered how Starsky fought for what he felt was right and how hard he would battle for those around him, that couldn't fight for themselves. Here he was about to kill this man, and this dying man's only thought was for his killers safety. Novak blinked hard, trying to fight his own inner demons, struggling with what he knew was right from wrong, from duty and honor, wondering how in the hell he winded up where he was today. A pitifully spiteful man full of hatred and self loathing to see how dire his situation had become, he blinked hard, trying to push his conscious out of his head.

"I wanna hear him beg for his life." Jenkins shouted from the back of the room. "Make him beg, right before you kill him."

Novak looked back at Starsky, a sorrowful gleam in his eye as honestly regretted having to be the one to break this man, to take his life and extinguish his light that made this world a better place. Novak wasn't sure what had happened to him, or at what second he saw what was happening for what it was worth. Novak raised the knife above his head, holding it precariously over the injured detective. Starsky looked up, blinking slowly, only half conscious as his lips moved.

"Please…Novak…save yourself…" He whispered causing Novak's heart to skip a beat.

With a ban chi like scream, Novak lunged forward, pivoting on one foot quickly and turning around, he flipped the knife into the air and caught the tip of the blade between his two fingers, flinging it sharply across the room, watching it as time almost stood still. The room erupted as gun shots rang out and the door flew open and the tall blond half of the duo busted into the room, dropping and doing a shoulder roll, coming up with his magnum in front of him opening fire and Novak stood watching the blade of the knife find its mark, piercing Sanders chest as the large man allowed his wet cigar to drop from his mouth in horror, clutching his chest and falling to the ground.

To be continued . . .


	16. Chapter 16

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

**Chapter 16**

Once the smoke cleared and the hail of gunfire ceased, Hutch rose cautiously, several officers entering behind him. He stood, his eyes instantly searching out his partner, having to step over Novak's dead body to reach him. With a final glance around the room, ensuring that his fellow officers had everything under control, he holstered his Magnum and moved closer to Starsky's limp form. His eyes quickly darted around, his head rolling from side to side, trying to check for severe injuries before attempting to touch him. His shaky hand reached up, his long fingers gently brushing against the side of his cheek. Starsky moved slightly, moaning softly.

"Hey Buddy, s'me?" Hutch whispered, trying to encourage a response.

Starsky's arms were still stretched high above his head, his head lobbed forward, his chin resting against his chest as he moaned again throatily.

Hutch looked back to the ground; a uniformed officer was at Novak's side, checking for a pulse. The young man looked up at Hutch and shook his head, indicating to him that Novak was dead, he wished he felt sorrow, but the truth was he didn't. He briefly felt that Novak had gotten what he deserved; of course he also didn't know that at the last moment, it was Novak that had taken out Sanders possibly saving Starsky's life. The tall blond returned his attention to his partner, looking at his condition; he wondered how Dobey could have allowed this to happen.

"Hey Starsk, you with me?" Hutch asked, his head bobbing, trying to mimic his partners instability.

"Hutssschh…" Starsky hissed weakly.

"Yeah, it's me, I'm here…" Hutch stood back upright, closing the gap between him and his partner, on hand reaching around and pulling him into a gentle hug.

"Gooooood…thought I was gonna…have ta' take 'em m'self…" His voice was barely audible but elicited a snort of laughter from his partner.

"Would I do that to you?" Hutch reassured his friend, relieved to see his humor was still intact.

Hutch flipped his head at one of the other officers, raising his brow at Starsky's restrained wrists. Without any further instructions, the younger officer ran out of the room.

Starsky's head rested against Hutch's shoulder as the brunet groaned.

"Easy Buddy, I gotcha…" Hutch whispered in Starsky's ear as he tried to hold him up. "Hang in there, it's almost over…"

Starsky let out another grunt a Hutch lifted his eyes to the ceiling hoping for the rescue people to hurry and for Starsky to hold on. Hutch looked over his shoulder, back by the wall while yet another officer was checking on Sanders motionless form, lying flat on his back, his large belly protruding up into the air, the knife sticking out of his chest. The officer gave Hutch the shake of his head, indicating that there were no signs of life coming from the leader.

Starsky moaned slightly, trying to shift his weight to get more comfortable, "Could you hurry with those bolt cutters!" He shouted towards the front door, waiting for the return of the officer. Hutch reached down, trying to move Starsky's blood stained shirt to get a better look at his injuries. The brunet flinched, pulling back slightly, "its okay Starsk, Sanders is dead, he's not gonna hurt you anymore…I need to take a look at your side, just bear with me." Hutch instructed his partner earning him a slight nod of Starsky's wobbly head.

Hutch's face paled as he saw the deep stab wound that penetrated his friends side, the blood still flowing freely.

"Jeez buddy, what the hell did they do to you?" The blond pondered as the other officer came running back in, carrying the bolt cutters.

The young officer reached up, being assisted by a third man and securing the tool around the lock on his manacles and squeezing the handles firmly together. The first hand released quickly, falling roughly to Starsky's side as they attached it around the other side, doing the same, cutting it loose and allowing his arm to flop to his side. Hutch carried the total weight of his buddy in his arm as he slowly lowered him to the ground, the third man protecting Starsky's head from hitting the hard floor.

"Easy, easy…" Hutch coaxed the other officer as they finally laid his partner's limp form on the ground.

"Hutschhh." Starsky slurred as the tall blond leaned over him, placing his ear closer to Starsky's mouth.

"Yeah Starsk, what is it?" He asked, his eyes scanning his partner's body feverishly.

"Novak…s'he okay? Did he make it?" Starsky asked weakly.

Hutch looked over at Novak's lifeless body and then returned his attention to Starsky.

"No, he's dead Starsk, you don't haveta worry about him, he's gone." Hutch assured the brunet.

"He killed Sanders…tell Dobey, he killed Sanders…" Starsky gasped as his head lobbed to the side, finally succumbing to the safe, painless world of unconsciousness.

"I will Buddy, I will…" Hutch vowed as he looked up at the medics that were rushing in.

Two men flanked the injured brunet, the man on the opposite side of Hutch placed a BP cuff around Starsky's upper arm, quickly inserting the stethoscope ear pieces in place and inflating the cuff.

Starsky moaned as the other medic examined his wound at his side, looking up at Hutch and locking eyes with him. "We need you to get back sir so we can work on him." He encouraged the blond.

Hutch felt Starsky's hand tightening around his, "Look, he's been through hell and back. Do whatever you need to do, but I ain't moving." Hutch stated with a conviction that he hadn't felt for quite awhile.

The second medic sighed heavily as he worked around the detective, nearly tripping over his long legs. He vaguely heard the monotone voices of the paramedics in the background, shooting out words that made it appear like they were talking in code…

'_BP 100/60, Pulse weak and thready, skin cool and clammy, both eyes equal and reactive, respirations 16…'_

Hutch allowed their voices to trail off as he concentrated on his partner's face which was contorted in pain and anguish as the two men around him, poked prodded and started IV lines.

Starsky again moaned, only longer and more drawn out this time. Hutch rolled his eyes in frustration, he knew that what they were doing was necessary, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He looked away as they prodded his side, the open, gaping wound, causing the blood to slowly start to flow again. Something caught his eye as he made out the large dark form standing in the doorway of the room. The rotund man grabbing his stark white handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiping his brow as Hutch's anger began to rise. Captain Dobey was talking to a uniformed officer as his eyes darted nervously back and forth from Hutch to the man before him as he continued his discussion.

The medics finished stabilizing the brunet, placing a large amount of gauze on his side and checking for any other serious injuries to his head and spine. Once they were satisfied that he was capable of being transported, a gurney was brought into the room. Hutch made note of Dobey's reluctance to approach the two detectives, probably already sensing Hutch's dissatisfaction with his superior. Hutch didn't understand how Dobey could have allowed his partner to go in alone, without the blond to watch his back, and he held the Captain partially responsible for the condition Starsky was in.

The semiconscious brunet was lifted up onto the stretcher as Hutch guided and directed the medics in the proper care and transport of an injured police officer, watching their every move and coaxing them as they moved his most precious commodity around. Hutch held up the IV bottle, high into the air as the paramedics strapped Starsky to the bed; they began to push him towards the doorway as Hutch looked up and locked eyes angrily, with his Captain, then diverted his attention back to the man on the gurney.

Dobey silently moved to the side as the group approached him. Just as they were passing through the door, Hutch's eyes quickly darted towards Dobey, his ice blue eyes piercing the large black man.

"Happy?" Hutch spat as he returned his focus in front of him and they continued on their way, getting his partner the much needed medical help he required.

Dobey snorted in disgust as he immediately forgave his officer's insubordination, knowing the bond that these two shared and knowing that tempers were running high.

Hutch continued outside with the medics as the loaded Starsky in to the waiting ambulance. The blond noted his friend's gasp as his body was shook and jolted on entrance.

"Hey, hey…come on, take it easy." Hutch pled as he stood by the foot of the stretcher, "Can't you give him anything for the pain?" He asked.

"Well we could, but I don't know how wise that would be, we truly don't know the extent of his injuries, or if he's had any other meds or drugs introduced to his system…" The first medic informed the worried detective.

Hutch climbed into the back of the wagon, daring wither medical attendant to try and stop him, as the doors were closed, and with a loud bang on the back, the vehicle sped away, on its way to Bay City Memorial, to the waiting hands of the more then capable staff.

The ambulance sped through the streets occasionally using its red lights and sirens to avoid the traffic or the ever frustrating red lights.

Once at the hospital, the back doors to the white wagon flew up and Hutch leapt out first, allowing the two men to lift the stretcher, allowing the black wheels to hit the pavement harshly. Hutch again took up his supportive place at Starsky's side, lifting the bottle of IV fluids high, and nearly jogging beside them to keep up as the shoved him through the emergency room doors, to the medical team that was prepared for his arrival. This time Hutch had no choice but to back up as several hospital workers pushed and shoved the blond out of the way, taking over his position, in a flurry of activity that actually made the tall Nordic feel somewhat comforted.

Hutch stood and watched as Starsky was whisked away, behind the triage doors and out of his sight, but this time Hutch wasn't worried, he was relieved. The blond turned on his heels, looking for the nearest nurse's station, and approaching it determined to find another officer.

The tall red headed nurse looked up to greet Hutch with a broad smile on her face. "Can I help you?" She asked her voice low and sultry.

"I'm looking for an officer that was brought in here a while back, gun shot wounds. Last I heard he was in surgery…" Hutch explained. "his name is Detective Lyons…" he concluded.

"Let me see what I can find out." She vowed as she disappeared behind the swing metal doors, with small frosted windows strategically placed, so no one can see in or out.

Hutch paced the room nervously, his mind racing to the events over the past few days; so much had happened in such a little amount of time, he had trouble keeping it all straight.

What seemed like hours passed before the nurse returned, her face paled as she approached Hutch, reaching out with her right hand and grabbing his left forearm.

"The doctor in charge of Detective Lyon's care has asked to speak to you…" Her voice quivered…"Privately." She finished as she pulled on his appendage and guided him back behind the doors. Hutch's heart raced as he felt the lump in his throat swell, threatening to choke him. He followed her as every click of his heels echoed in the empty, sterile hospital hallway.

To Be Continued…


	17. Chapter 17

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

**Head Games**

Chapter 17 

"Dr. Melbourne . . ." the gray haired surgeon introduced himself, as he stuck his hand across the large desk towards the tall blond detective, "Please sit down . . . Officer . . ."

"Detective Hutchinson," Hutch replied, firmly shaking the doctor's hand before settling himself into the comfortable leather chair, "How is Detective Lyons?" the blond said, coming straight to the point of the matter.

"Is Detective Lyons is your partner?" Dr. Melbourne said hesitantly.

"I was with him when he was shot, and I really am concerned about him. I'd like to know how he's doing . . ." Hutch replied, rubbing the grit from his eyes, feeling the sudden overwhelming sense of weariness that overtook him once he sat down.

"I see . . ." Dr. Melbourne continued, "We've contacted his family and are awaiting their arrival." The doctor stared into the sky blue eyes of the blond and sighed wearily, "Detective Lyons took a bullet in the lower back that hit very close to his spinal column."

"I-Is he paralyzed?" Hutch asked, unable to stop himself from stuttering as the thought of Lyons never being able to walk or run again flashed through his mind.

"Detective Hutchinson," Dr. Melbourne said gravely, "It's a miracle that Detective Lyons is even alive . . . right now it appears that he cannot feel any pain stimulus to his legs and feet, but that might be a temporary thing caused by the swelling to his spine . . . only time will tell if . . . " The doctor was interrupted by the shrill ring of the desk phone, which he promptly answered.

"Yes . . . yes, he's here . . . I see . . . yes . . . I will let him know." Melbourne murmured into the receiver. He quickly hung up and looked over at the blond. "It seems you have a friend in triage who is asking for you . . . "

"Yeah . . . my partner. Lyons and I were looking for him when he was shot." Hutch stood slowly and said, "Would it be possible to see Detective Lyons?"

"He's just came out of surgery," Dr. Melbourne said softly, "The bullet was precariously close to his spine, but we were able to remove it. Like I was telling you, as of yet, we are not sure of how severe the damage is. The swelling around the area is probably putting pressure on the nerves surrounding the area. We are hoping that once the swelling goes down that he will hopefully be able to regain feelings in his legs and feet, but only time will tell. I would advise you to go and take care of your partner first. Detective Lyons will be under heavy sedation for some time. We want to keep him immobile for a while to allow the area time to heal and to reduce the swelling."

"I see . . . thank you doctor, "Hutch replied, shaking the doctor's hand once again, "I appreciate you taking the time to tell me of Lyons' status." The tall blond smiled sadly and turned towards the door.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The large black man watched while the blond hurried towards him as he stood outside of the triage doors. It dismayed Dobey to see the look of anger that hardened his detective's features as the blond neared him.

"They were looking for you, Hutch," Dobey said softly, "I guess Starsky is being uncooperative . . ."

The blond said nothing and barely acknowledged that he even heard his captain.

"Hutch," Dobey said, grabbing his arm as the blond attempted to pass him by, "I did what I had to do . . . I'm sorry . . ."

"Look," Hutch snapped, pale blue eyes froze the kind-hearted captain with its coldness, "Your rash decision could have killed Starsky . . . how could you send him in there alone? You saw what they did to him . . . they hung him from chains and sliced him up with a blade and he was alone. _Alone_! Somehow your apology just doesn't cut it!" The blond's icy tone cut the captain to the quick.

"Right now Captain, I'm going in there to see my partner, "Hutch continued, "I don't know if he's gonna make it through this ordeal you put him through, but at least he won't have to be alone anymore!" The blond jerked his arm from beneath his captain's fingers and walked through the doors leading to the triage.

The large black captain looked down at his shoes feeling the heavy cloak of guilt and despair as it settled over his shoulders. Dobey closed his eyes and murmured a silent prayer for his wounded detective.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hutch could see his partner's struggling weakly against the intern who tried to hold him down, and he rushed over to the table, knowing that Starsky would calm down once the brunet saw him.

"Hey . . . hey . . . easy buddy, take it easy . . . I'm here, I'm right here . . ." Hutch murmured soothingly, helping the intern by gently grabbing onto his partner's wrists, "Right here Starsk . . . hey . . ." the blond smiled as the dark blue eyes focused on his face, "Heard you were causing a ruckus in here . . . what's going on huh?" Hutch lifted his gaze from his friend's face and made eye contact with the flustered intern.

"We were trying to prep him for surgery, but he's was refusing any treatment until he saw you." The intern had his hand pressed against the bleeding wound to Starsky's side.

"Still bleeding?" Hutch asked worriedly.

"He was struggling . . . it started up again with all of that jostling he did . . ."

"H-Hutch?" Starsky weakly whispered between his rapid, short intakes of breathe; his dark blue gaze never leaving his blond counterpart's face.

Hutch looked down at his wounded partner's flushed face and his eyes softened as he gently ran his hand along the side of it, "You have a fever buddy . . . you need to let them take you up now . . . they gotta stop that bleeding and put you back together okay? I'll be right here waiting for you like always . . ."

"Hutch . . . " the brunet gasped, as a spasm of pain tore into his battered body, "No…N"

"It's okay buddy . . . Novak can't hurt you anymore. It's all over . . ." Hutch crooned softly to the distraught brunet. A hand, stained with dried blood, reached out and clutched at the blond's leather jacket.

Hutch lowered his head, listening to the winded gasps coming from the dark haired man, knowing his partner desperately needed to tell him something. Hutch gently stroked back the curls from his friend's forehead feeling the raging heat that emanated from Starsky, as his partner suddenly arched in pain. "Shh . .. take it easy buddy. . . right here Starsk . . . I'm right here . . ." he said, gently pushing down on his friend's shoulder, stroking his chest, hoping his touch would ease the spasm that locked Starsky in its punishing grip.

Starsky scrunched his eyes, gasping, as he surfed through the pain that ripped through his side, wincing as the intern applied more pressure to his wound, "H-Hutch . . ."

"Right here Starsk . . . take it easy buddy . . ." Hutch murmured, his lowered blond head turned to hear his partner's whispered gasps, "N-Not . . . Dobey's . . . fault . . . 'kay?"

The blond pulled back, seeing the quiet determination in his partner's ocean blue eyes, which suddenly slammed shut again in pain. He could feel the Starsky's fingers tighten around a fistful of leather, as he clenched and hung on, riding out the sharp pain as it once again lanced through his side.

"Easy buddy . . . take it easy . . . " Hutch whispered, his mind reeling, wondering how it was that Starsky would know he was struggling with frustration and anger at his captain. Dobey's impulsive decision of sending his partner in alone, undercover, totally pissed Hutch off. How could Dobey have been so stupid? And because of his rash call his partner's life might once again be at stake.

"H-Hutch . . ." Starsky's almost inaudible whisper drew him away from his angry thoughts, as he focused his whole attention on his hurting friend whose dark blue gaze never wavered from his face.

"Yeah . . . right here," Hutch murmured, his pale blue eyes growing soft with affection for his stubborn partner.

"We've got to take him now Detective . . . " the nurse said as she approached the table.

"No . . . not yet . . . " Starsky gasped, his hand tightening on Hutch's jacket, "Promise . . . promise first . . ." he rasped between breaths.

Hutch's gaze locked onto his hurting partner's, knowing what Starsky was asking him to do. Hutch snorted softly, patting the heated hand that clutched at him, "I promise," the blond said softly, "Now you promise me something buddy . . . " Hutch whispered to his curly haired friend, "You hang on and make it through this . . ."

Just the slightest hint of a grin tweaked Starksy's lips, as his eyelids lowered to half-mast, sapphire blue peeking out under dark heavy lashes, "Knew you would . . . see it . . . my way . . ." he mumbled, finally releasing the blond's jacket from his grip.

Hutch caught the brunet's arm as it flopped downwards and he put it gently across Starsky's chest, "Your turn buddy . . ." the tall blond said gently, a smile softening his features, "I didn't hear your promise . . ."

A small snort from the brunet made Hutch smile even more, although it quickly faded as Starsky once again closed his eyes tightly against the pain that made him cry out softly before he caught himself and swallowed it down between ragged gasps.

The rigid, tenseness in the brunet's body sickened the blond who calmly reached out and stroked the arm of the hurting man, although what he really wanted to do was to shout and throw something across the triage room, seeing his partner in pain tore away at Hutch's heart.

"Take it easy Starsk . . ." Hutch soothed, making his voice velvet soft, as he continued to brush his hand along the brunet's fevered arm until the spasm unlocked its deadly grip on his partner who exhaled harshly, his body slumping wearily against the table, the same arm slid to the side of the table, wrist hanging limply over its edge.

"We have to go now Detective," the nurse demanded, pushing the blond to one side as the intern started to wheel the gurney table through the swinging doors. Hutch watched his partner being taken away, his pale blue eyes never leaving the limp wrist as it dangled and swayed with the movement of the wheeled table. It was only when the doors swung quietly shut behind Starsky that Hutch belatedly realized that he never got that promise from his partner.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hutch walked slowly from the triage room and glanced towards the waiting area seeing Dobey sitting on the edge of those uncomfortable chairs, his elbows on his knees face in his hands. The blond could immediately feel the irritation and anger rise to the forefront, but then he really took the time to look at his captain.

It was obvious the large man was lost deep in thought. For the first time, Hutch took in his captain's disheveled appearance, his wrinkled suit, one sock rolled down to scuffed shoes, his wiry hair stuck out in areas where the captain had obviously run his fingers through. His broad shoulders were slumped, as if he carried the weight of the world upon them, and Hutch had the grace to feel guilty for his outburst against the large man.

The blonde's gentle soul filled with compassion for the man who was at times, a surrogate father to both he and Starsky; Hutch inhaled a deep breath and quietly made his way over to sit across from Dobey.

The dark man wearily lifted his head, peering up at the tall, blond who sat directly in front of him. "How is he?" the captain asked, his usually gruff voice was soft and sad.

"They've just taken him into the O.R.," Hutch said gently, noting the haggard lines upon his captain's weary face; and the blonde's heart softened even more.

Hutch self-consciously cleared his throat, "Um . . . listen Cap'n . . . about what just happened . . . I'm sorry for losing it like that . . . you made a decision as our captain and what I said earlier . . . well, that was uncalled for and . . ."

"No Hutch . . . you were right . . . I should've listened to my gut feelings and not allow your hot headed partner in there all alone. I made a wrong call and for my stupidity, Starsky might not make it this time." Dobey continued, his deep voice cracking a little with the emotions he tried to suppress.

Hutch felt a twinge of panic at this captain's soft words, remembering that Starsky never promised him anything. The blond pondered over this silently, knowing that if Starsky made a vow to him, he would do anything to keep it. This time however . . .

"Uh . . . listen Captain, Starsky been through worse scrapes than this . . ." Hutch began.

"You and I both saw the knife wound Hutch, it was deep . . . he's been through a hell of a lot in such a short period of time . . . did you see that they ripped opened his stitches from the bullet graze that Novak gave him?" At the curt nod of the blond, the large man sighed heavily, "I've prayed for him and I've asked the good Lord to keep him in His hands . . ."

Hutch nodded again and swallowed, lowering his eyes to his own hands, which were stained with flecks of Starsky's blood. The blond clasped his hands together tightly over his mid-section and leaned wearily into the hard back of the plastic chair, settling himself in for the long wait, "He'll make it Captain . . . he has to . . .he just . . . has to . . ."

To Be Continued. .


	18. Chapter 18

_Feedback: Always welcome, but remember to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you…This is a learning and growing process, no one here claims to be perfect, or a professional, so don't treat us like one…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Starsky and Hutch ('cause if I did, I would find better things for them to do.) _

_Author's Notes: This one is a trio of collaboration, between me and two other extremely amazing people! They are very close to me, (not to mention extremely talented!), and I hope they are close to all of you too… (And the crowd goes wild as the scene begins…)_

_This is the final chapter; we appreciate everyone that has been following this one. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts!_

_S.B.S…(GW3)_

**Head Games**

**Chapter Eighteen**

Hutch and Dobey patiently waited for several hours for word on their friend. They talked and joked around, trying desperately to pass the time. Over the few hour period, several visitors had arrived, Edith Dobey, Huggy Bear and many other officers, waiting to hear word on both Lyon's and Detectives Starsky's condition. Neither Hutch nor Dobey had expected the next two officers that burst through the waiting room door. Federal Agents Winslow and Bryant flew into the room, both in apparent frenzy. The searched the room quickly for Dobey, spotting him, and rushing towards him.

"Mind telling me what the hell happened here Captain?" Bryant shouted accusatorily.

"What do you mean?" Dobey stood to meet them, quickly recognizing them as the pair that suggested Starsky try to infiltrate the operation, Hutch rising and staying right at his side.

"What the hell do you think I mean, we give you a fairly simple assignment and wind up with a several dead suspects, a dead officer and two others seriously injured…just what in the Sam hell did you do to this investigation?" Winslow yelled, his brow furrowing in frustration.

"If I remember correctly, it was you two that insisted on sending in my man; alone…to try to break your case wide open…if you ask me, I'd like to know what the Sam hell YOU were thinking?" Dobey retorted sharply.

Hutch's face flushed in anger as he took a step forward, backing up Federal Agent Winslow, whispering menacingly, "You're the ones responsible for my partner's condition?" He said, his lips pursed together as his icy blue eyes penetrated Winslow's soul as he took a step back to avoid being step on by the tall blond.

"Well, I wouldn't say we are completely responsible…after all, he's your captain." Winslow answered nervously, feeling the intense anger radiating from Hutch's pores.

"You're right, he IS my captain," Hutch hooked his thumb towards Dobey, "and one thing I know for sure is that he never would have sent Detective Starsky into that type of situation without me, unless he was ordered to do it by a higher up…" Hutch took another step towards the man, backing him up against the wall, "would you care to explain that one?"

Winslow looked over at Bryant, his eyes pleading for help, but Bryant to afraid to jump in.

"I…I was j…just following orders Detective, I'mmmm…sure you understand that." He stuttered dramatically.

"Well let me make sure you an' your partner understand something…I have almost lost two partners this week, thanks to your departments incompetence…now if I were you two, I would get the hell outta here and let us be…but make no mistake, you both had better pray to God that _both_ of my partners pull through this, or I'm gonna come after both of you myself, and I don't need any help to do it." Hutch spat as he turned to see Dobey smiling at him as he left the room, throwing the swinging door open hard, stomping through it and disappearing down the hall.

"Excuse me, aren't you Detective Hutchins?" A man in a long white lab coat stopped the tall blond as he rushed down the corridor.

"That's Detective Hutchinson…" He corrected him with a irritated tone in his voice, "what is it?

"My name is Dr. O'Neil, and I just finished operating on your partner, Detective Starsky, I was on my way to talk to you about his condition."

Hutch's face paled as his stomach leapt to his throat, threatening to choke him. "How'd it go, is he gonna be all right?" He asked quickly, swallowing hard, and inhaling deeply.

"The surgery went well, he lost a lot of blood, but we gave him three pints in the OR, the stab wound to his side was deep, but the damage was primarily contained to soft tissues, nothing vital was damaged, it was almost like the person knew what he was doing, avoiding anything that would have been life threatening. We repaired his earlier gun shot wound…everything went real well. He is on his way to recovery, we have him on a broad spectrum, high dose of antibiotics, I am afraid our biggest worry now would be infection, but that is highly unlikely now that we have started the antibiotic therapy."

"Thanks great news Doc, when can I see him?" Hutch asked impatiently.

"Just as soon as my staff gets him stabilized, I'll have them come get you right away." He vowed as he patted Hutch on the shoulder, reassuringly.

"I can't thank you enough." Hutch said as he felt the tears beginning to well up in his eyes, he was exhausted, relieved, happy and so saddened all at the same time, and he found himself on the verge of breaking down, something he couldn't afford to do, not yet. "Doc, could you find out if there's been any change in Detectives Lyons condition for me?"

"Sure, I'll find out and come back and let you know." Dr. O'Neil vowed as he scurried away to get the man the answers he was looking for.

Hutch paused for a brief moment, knowing that the rest of the visitors, back in the waiting room were waiting to hear the news, he drew his hand down the length of his face, sighing heavily as he headed back to the lounge.

All eyes were on him, as he entered the room. He picked out Winslow and Bryant, holding up his finger and curling it towards him, requesting their presence. Taking both of the men outside, he privately informed them of Starsky's condition…

"I think it is best if you two are not in the room when I give the others the news…" he started to explain to them, "all those people in there, love my partner deeply and I would hate to see what they might do to you to for causing this to happen. The doc says it's gonna be touch and go for at least a week or two…he's not in very good shape…and like I said before, you two had just better pray that he pulls through this, cause I'd hate to see what those men and women are going to do to you if something happens to him…" Hutch had a little trouble keeping a straight face. "Now if I were you two, I would head right down to the station and put in for a transfer, cause I know for a fact that our department is going to make it very difficult for you to continue working there. They will try to undermine everything you two do, and I think it would look so much better on your records if you request a transfer versus being reassigned due to a conflict in your subordinates…don't you?" Hutch's brow raised as the Federal Agents considered his generous advice.

Looking at each other and agreeing with a tip of their heads, they were off, rushing out of the hospital and down to the station, before any of the other officers got the news and headed down there themselves.

As soon as they were out of sight, Hutch went into the waiting room and gave everyone the real news on Starsky and was met with hugs and cheers as the whole room erupted in celebration.

As the celebration started to calm down, Dr. Melbourne, Lyons' doctor entered the room. Hutch noted Dobey's head raise and snap towards the door as his followed. Once again, he found himself with the all too familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach as he and Dobey both, walked towards him.

"How is he Doctor?" Dobey was the first to ask.

"Well we have already begun to see a slight improvement over the past couple of hours; he is showing minimal signs of reacting to pain stimuli in his lower extremities..." Hutch hit the back of Dobey's shoulder with a broad smile spreading across his face, "…now that doesn't mean that he will make a full recovery, but it is definitely a good sign and a step in the right direction…" Dr. Melbourne concluded.

"That's just terrific news doc, thank you so much for everything you're doing for him." Hutch expressed his gratitude.

o-o-o-0-0-0-o-o-o

As the next several days past, Starsky got stronger and stronger. Lyons also showed slow but steady improvement, indicating he would recover most, if not all of his sensations of his lower extremities. Between Lyons recovery and Starsky's physical therapy, Hutch had little responsibilities left. He spent his time, running from room to room, going out for errands, and getting the latest hot rod magazine, or the newest odd facts book that just came out on the market. Hutch was happy to be able to do his own small part in the recovery process of both of his partners; he just wished he could do more.

Early Thursday morning, Hutch went tot the corner store, stocking up on the magazines that had just previewed their latest issues. He decided to surprise Starsky by picking up the new issue of Playboy, something he knew that Starsky wouldn't have had a chance to pick up. He threw open his friend's door, finding him sitting up straight in bed, watching something on the TV, but not really watching it at all. Hutch took great pleasure in tossing the brown paper bag at his buddy, watching his face light up with childlike excitement.

Starsky fumbled through the bag, pulling out a word search magazine, and tossing it aside, and pulling out the latest issue of Playboy. His face lit up as he immediately found the middle of the magazine and checked out the centerfold, a broad smile and a flush of his checks spread across his face. Hutch was very pleased with the effect he had on his partner's spirit and morale, seeing an instant improvement in his friend's attitude. Hutch sat on the edge of Starsky's bed, trying to catch a glimpse of Miss August himself, as Starsky playfully pulled it away, hiding it against his chest.

"No droolin' on my new gal…" he taunted his partner.

Before Hutch could respond, the door opened and one of the most beautiful nurses Hutch had ever seen walked through the door, caring a pan with a towel and hygiene supplies. Starsky looked up, dropping the magazine in her lap as his attention peeked. Hutch stood quickly to greet the woman, offering to take some of the items from her in assistance.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave, it's time for Mr. Starsky's sponge bath," she hissed seductively.

Starsky raised his brows in anticipation, as Hutch's face sagged in disappointment. He looked over at Starsky as the brunet quickly hid the new magazine behind his back, a look of pure excitement washing over his olive skinned face.

The nurse pushed past the tall blond as she approached her patient. Her eyes locked with Starsky's as Hutch good see the excitement of anticipation grow in his face.

"Hutch," Starsky spoke, not taking his eyes off the beautiful woman standing over him, "this is Mindy…my nurse's aide…Mindy…this is Hutch…" Starsky said, his eyes still locked on her.

"Hi, nice to meet you," Hutch attempted to get her attention but to no avail, she was fixed in a trance like state to her patient.

"How'd you like it today Dave?" She asked as she swaggered over to him. "Laying down, or sitting up?"

"I think I'd like to be sitting up today, I wanna watch." He said as Hutch swore his partner's face flush.

The nurse set her pan and sponges on the tray table as she moved to the foot of the bed and started to crank the lever, raising the brunet into a more erect position.

Hutch cleared his throat nervously as he moved towards the door, "Um, er…excuse me…" Neither one of them paid him any attention, "I think I'm gonna go visit Lyon's, give you two a little privacy."

"You do that Hutch," Starsky finally spoke as the nurse started to pull down his hospital gown, exposing his muscular chest, and grabbing her sponge, lathered with soap. "Give us at least 30 minutes, will ya?" he asked.

"Make it 45…I brought the oils you wanted…" Mindy giggled as Hutch sighed heavily and left the room, pausing outside, pressing his ear to the door to listen, curiosity getting the best of him.

He heard muffled giggles and a couple of moans coming from his injured partner, suddenly he had a lot less sympathy for his friend and a little less compassion, now he was feeling just a tinge of envy. It would be worth getting stabbed, for a shot at this type of sponge bath from Mindy, she looked more than qualified.

Shaking his head, he made his way down the hallway, to the elevator, on his way to see his other partner, Lyons. Checking his watch, he knew that the officer should be done with his physical therapy by now, and pending his session, ready for some company.

He paused just outside of the detective's room, just barely opening the door, hearing the giggle of a young female resonate from inside the room. He listened briefly and then entered the room to find the curtain pulled completely around the bed, bending and looking nervously under the drape, he saw what appeared to be a barefoot woman. He heard Lyons moan in approval to what ever physical therapy she was performing, Hutch raised an eyebrow as his face flushed in embarrassment.

"No…not there…a little lower…" Lyons instructed his nurse as he again let out a moan.

Hutch quickly and quietly exited the room before anyone could tell that he was there.

The door closed slowly behind him as he looked back over his shoulder at the threshold. Tilting his head to the side he thought to himself about how nice it would be to have some type of injury, earning him some of the attention that both of his partners were receiving. In the meantime, glancing at his watch he realized that he had about 45 minutes to kill and headed for the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat, and maybe even a nurse if he found one willing to tend to his ailments.

The End…


End file.
